CHARLES  LAMB 


IN  HIS 

RELATIONS  TO  THE  STAGE 

BY 

IDA  BELLE  DAVIS 
A.  B.  University  of  Illinois,  1911 


THESIS 

Submitted  in  Partial  Fulfillment  of  the  Requirements  for  the 

Degree  of 

MASTER  OF  ARTS 

IN  ENGLISH 

IN 

THE  GRADUATE  SCHOOL 
OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


1921 


\rb2-\ 

23~°\ 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


THE  GRADUATE  SCHOOL 


Jim&— 1 ....  1-9E3 192 


I HEREBY  RECOMMEND  THAT  THE  THESIS  PREPARED  UNDER  MY 

SUPERVISION  BY Ida  JS&llgL .Davis 

ENTITLED Gh^rles  L^mb  in  his  delations  to 


the  Stage 

BE  ACCEPTED  AS  FULFILLING  THIS  PART  OF  THE  REQUIREMENTS  FOR 
THE  DEGREE  OF Master  Of  Arts 


In  Charge  of  Thesis 


Head  of  Department 


Recommendation  concurred  in* 


^Required  for  doctor’s  degree  but  not  for  master’s 

4:  * 


g—:  XVJ  s~\  Sj  ' 

O C o-JL 


Committee 

on 

Final  Examination* 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/charleslambinhisOOdavi 


CHARLES  LAMB  IN  HIS  RELATION  TO  THE  STAGE 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION 


Page 

1 


CHAPTER  ONE:  THE  LIFE  OF  LAMB 

CHAPTER  TWO:  LAMB  AS  A CRITIC 

I ACTORS 
II  SPECIMENS 
III  SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS 
IV  ARTIFICIAL  COMEDY 

CHAPTER  THREE:  LAMB  AS  A DRAMATIST 
I TRAGEDY,  JOHN  WOODVIL 
II  FARCE,  MR.  H 

III  TRAGI -COMEDY,  THE  WIFE'S  TRIAL 
IV  FARCE,  THE  PAWNBROKER'S  DAUGHTER 

CONCLUSION 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 


3 

21 

26 

32 

36 

40 

44 

45 
55 
64 
69 

75 


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INTRODUCTION 


Charles  Lamb  played  his  part  on  the  stage  of  English 
Literature  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  first  half 
of  the  nineteenth  centuries.  He  lived  in  that  period  of  great 
revolution  which  affected  not  only  government,  but  religion, 
society,  and  literature  as  well.  The  leaders  of  the  Classicists 
of  the  eighteenth  century  had  made  their  exits  from  the  stage  of 
literature  and  the  curtain  rose  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century  upon  a group  of  enthusiastic  Romanticists.  William  Blake 
was  imitating  the  Shakespearian  lyrics;  Wordsworth  was  worshipping 
nature;  Scott  was  depicting  medieval  life;  Coleridge  was  lecturing 
on  Shakespeare;  and  Lamb  was  delving  in  the  musty  manuscripts  of  the 
British  museum  for  the  plays  of  the  old  Elizabethan  dramatists. 

In  this  period  the  intellectual  horizon  was  broadening, 
thanks  partly  to  the  newspapers  and  magazines  that  were  established. 
The  Times  and  the  Morning  Post  were  founded  during  the  last  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  Edinburgh  Review  was  started  in 
1802;  the  London  Quarterly  in  1809;  Blackwood*  s Magazine  in  181?; 
and  the  Spectator  in  1828.  These  magazines  were  supported  by  the 
best  literary  writers  of  the  day.  Their  contributions  included 
criticisms  on  books,  current  literature,  plays,  and  the  stage;  so 
that  the  time  may  well  be  called  a period  of  criticism.  Charles 
Lamb  contributed  to  several  of  these  magazines,  and  it  is  prin- 
cipally through  these  contributions  that  we  have  learned  of  his 
relation  to  the  stage. 


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2 


The  purpose  of  this  thesis  is  to  show  this  relation  to 
be  that  of  a thorough-going  romanticist.  We  shall  endeavor  to  prove 
our  case  by  reviewing  Lamb's  life,  and  noting  his  romantic  nature; 
by  showing  his  dramatic  criticisms  to  be  those  of  an  impressionist; 
and  by  analyzing  his  plays,  and  pointing  out  the  causes  of  his 
failure  as  a dramatist. 


CHAPTER  ONE 


THE  LIFE  OF  LAMB 

Charles  Lamb,  the  "most  lovable"  figure  in  English 
literature,  was  born  February  10,  1775,  at  the  Inner  Temple,  London, 
which  was  his  home  for  the  first  seventeen  years  of  his  life.  His 
father  John  Lamb  was  a clerk  and  servant  of  Samuel  Salt,  a bencher, 
who  depended  upon  his  clerk  to  despatch  his  business.  While  Salt 
lived  he  provided  for  John  Lamb  and  his  family,  but  after  his  death 
they  experienced  financial  troubles. 

From  the  description  of  the  father,  represented  as  Lovel 
in  the  essay  "Old  Benchers,"  Charles  must  have  inherited  some  of  his 
father's  characteristics.  "Lovel  was  a man  of  incorrigible  and 
losing  honesty.  . . In  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  he  never  consid- 
ered inequalities,  or  calculated  the  number  of  his  opponents.  . . 

He  was  the  liveliest  little  fellow  breathing,  had  a face  as  gay  as 
Garrick's,  . . .possessed  a fine  turn  for  humorous  poetry,  moulded 
heads  in  clay  to  admiration,  by  the  dint  of  natural  genius  merely; 
turned  cribbage  boards,  . . .had  the  merriest  quips  and  conceits, 
and  was  altogether  asbrimful  of  rogueries  and  inventions  as  you 
could  desire."  The  father  had  written  poetical  pieces  for  certain 
occasions,  and  it  was  from  him  that  the  three  children,  John,  Mary, 
and  Charles,  inherited  their  literary  taste.  But  they  inherited 
from  him  another  characteristic,  a taint  of  insanity,  which  made 
their  lives  a tragedy. 

Through  the  essays  of  Lamb  we  learn  something  of  his 
childhood.  When  quite  young,  he  and  Mary  spent  some  time  with  their 


. 

' 


4 

grandmother,  Mrs.  Field,  who  was  the  housekeeper  in  an  old  country 
place  at  Blakesware  in  Hertfordshire.  In  the  essay  "Blakesmoore  in 

H shire,"  he  gives  us  a glimpse  of  his  wonderful  imagination  as 

a child.  The  pictures  and  tapestries  of  the  old  house  had  "magic" 
in  them.  He  studied  them  until  he  was  familiar  with  all  the 
different  scenes  and  characters.  When  in  his  bed,  he  would  shift 
the  coverlids  to  peep  at  the  tapestries,  but  after  catching  sight 
of  some  "stern  visage,"  he  would  quickly  cover  his  head.  In  "The 
Y/itch  Aunt"  one  of  the  stories  included  in  Mrs.  Leicester 1 s School 
he  refers  to  Glanvil's  witch  stories  and  Salmon1 s Modern  History 
with  its  Chinese  gods  and  great  hooded  serpents,  as  the  favorite 
books  of  his  childhood.  After  reading  these  stories,  "One  night," 
he  says,  "I  became  terrified  in  my  sleep,  I got  out  of  bed  and 
crept  to  an  adjoining  room,  where  my  aunt  usually  sat.  The  old 
lady  was  sitting  with  her  eyes  half  open,  half  closed,  her 
spectacles  tottering  on  her  nose;  her  head  nodding  over  her  prayer 
book;  her  lips  mumbling  the  words  she  read;  all  this  with  the  dead 
of  night  joined  to  produce  a wicked  fancy  in  me,  that  the  form  I 
beheld  was  not  my  aunt  but  some  witch."1  He  tells  how,  when  morning 
came,  the  fancy  passed  away,  but  when  night  returned  he  could  not 
quite  determine  whether  the  woman  he  saw  was  his  aunt  or  a witch. 

He  says  he  labored  for  weeks  under  the  illusion,  "it  was  my  aunt, 
and  it  was  not  my  aunt."1 

When  he  was  seven  years  of  age  he  entered  Christ's 
Hospital,  through  the  influence  of  his  benefactor  Samuel  Salt.  In 
the  essay,  "Christ's  Hospital  Five  and  Thirty  Years  Ago,"  he  de- 

1Lucas,  The  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.5. 


' 


5 


scribes  the  school  as  "an  institution  to  assist  those  who  are  the 
most  willing,  but  not  always  the  most  able  to  help  themselves." 

Here  he  met  Coleridge,  his  life-long  friend.  In  this  school  the 
students  became  familiar  with  the  classics.  Their  severe  master 
moulded  their  taste  for  Demosthenes,  Homer,  and  Virgil.  They  were 
taught  to  compare  Greek  and  Homan  poets,  "and  on  grounds  of  plain 
sense  and  universal  logic  to  see  and  assert  the  superiority  of  the 
former  in  the  truth  of  nativeness  both  of  their  thoughts  and 
diction."1  Coleridge  says,  "At  the  same  time  that  we  were  studying 
the  Greek  tragic  poets,  he  made  us  read  Shakespeare  and  Milton  as 
lessons;  and  they  were  the  lessons,  too,  which  required  most  time 
and  trouble  to  bring  up,  so  as  to  escape  his  censure.  . . In  the 
truly  great  poets,  he  would  say,  there  is  a reason  assignable,  not 
only  for  every  word,  but  for  the  position  of  every  word."1  This 
training  prepared  Coleridge  and  Lamb  for  the  criticisms  in  which 
they  later  engaged.  Lamb  attended  the  school  from  1782  to  1789. 

He  did  not  enter  the  highest  class  called  the  Grecians,  as  they 
were  supposed  to  take  holy  orders  in  the  church.  An  impediment  in 
Lamb's  speech  prevented  him  from  qualifying  for  this  class,  although 
he  had  the  reputation  of  being  a good  classic  scholar. 

Preparation  for  Lamb's  literary  career  was  not  obtained 
entirely  at  school.  Samuel  Salt  had  a library  into  which  Charles 
and  Mary  Lamb,  "tumbled  by  accident  or  design,  a spacious  closet  of 
good  old  English  reading  without  much  selection  or  prohibition," 
and  here  these  young  people  "browsed  at  will  upon  that  fair  and 


^Coleridge,  Biographia  Literaria,  vol.  1,  p.4. 


» 


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wholesome  pasturage . " ^ Here  Lamb  first  became  acquainted  not  only 

with  Shakespeare,  but  with  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  whom,  as  early  as 

1796,  he  quotes  with  enthusiasm.2 

Lamb's  acquaintance  with  the  theater  began  when  he  was 

six  years  of  age.  His  godfather  Francis  Fielde  associated  with 

some  of  the  actors  of  Drury  Lane  Theater,  and  at  his  pleasure 

received  tickets  for  their  performances.  It  was  due  to  this  favor 

that  Charles  Lamb,  in  company  with  his  parents,  attended  his  first 

play,  which  really  was  an  opera  entitled  Artaxerxe3 . composed  by 

3 

Thomas  A.  Arne.  The  boy  of  six  years  was  enchanted  by  its 
oriental  splendor.  In  the  essay  "My  First  Play"  he  says,  "I  had 
dabbled  a little  in  Universal  History  — the  ancient  part  of  it  — 
and  here  was  the  court  of  Persia.  — I took  no  proper  interest  in 
the  action  going  on,  for  I understood  not  its  import  — but  I heard 
the  word  Darius,  and  I was  in  the  midst  of  Daniel.  All  feeling  was 
absorbed  in  vision.  Gorgeous  vests,  gardens,  palaces,  princesses, 
passed  before  me.  I knew  not  players.  I was  in  Persepolis  for  the 
time,  and  the  burning  idol  of  their  devotion  almost  converted  me 
into  a worshipper.  I was  awe-struck,  and  believed  those  significa- 
tions to  be  something  more  than  elemental  fires."  The  second  play 

A 

he  attended  was  The  Lady  of  the  Manor,  a comic  opera  by  Dr.Kenrick. 
Of  this  play  Lamb  had  faint  recollections.  The  third  play  of  the 
season  of  1781  and  1782  which  he  witnessed  was  The  Wav  of  the  World 
by  Congreve.  During  this  play  Lamb  sat  "grave  as  a judge"  thinking 

j^ssavs  of  Elia.  " Macke ry  End. " 

^Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters , vol.  5,  p.36. 

Baker,  Biograohla  Dramat ica,  vol.  2,  p.38. 

4Ibid.  p. 361. 


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"the  hysteric  affectations  of  Lady  Wishfort  were  solemn  tragic 
passions . " 1 

All  play -going  was  forbidden  during  the  school  period  at 
Christ's  Hospital.  After  a lapse  of  seven  years  Lamb  again 
attended  the  theater.  He  had  never  forgotten  the  thrill  of  his 
first  play,  when  he  "felt  all,  loved  all,  wondered  all."  He 
expected  to  experience  the  same  feeling,  but  something  had  hap- 
pened. Lamb  says,  "I  had  left  the  temple  a devotee,  and  I returned 
a rationalist  . . . The  green  curtain  was  no  longer  a veil  drawn 
between  two  worlds  . . . but  a quantity  of  green  baize,  which  was 
to  separate  the  audience  for  a given  time  from  their  fellow  men 
who  were  to  come  forward  and  pretend  those  parts."1  The  thrill 
did  not  come!  Would  it  come  again? 

Soon  after  leaving  school  Charles  Lamb  entered  the  South 
Sea  House  as  a clerk,  but  in  April  1792  he  changed  to  the  East 
India  House  with  which  he  was  employed  as  an  accountant  for  thirty 
years.  He  was  retired  in  1822  with  a pension. 

During  the  first  years  of  Lamb’s  employment  the  family  was 
in  poor  financial  circumstances,  Samuel  Salt  having  died  in  1792. 
Charles  did  not  receive  a salary  until  he  had  served  three  yeara 
in  probation.  Mary  Lamb  helped  to  meet  expenses  by  taking  in 
sewing. 

With  poverty  came  another  great  sorrow.  Mary,  tired  out 
from  her  labor,  became  enraged  at  one  of  her  apprentices.  Mrs. 

Lamb  interfered  to  rescue  the  girl,  when  Mary  in  a fit  of  insanity 
stabbed  her  mother.  From  this  time  Charles  Lamb  who  was  then 

Assays  of  Elia,  "My  First  Play." 


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twenty-one  years  of  age  assumed,  the  responsibility  of  the  home.  In 
a letter  to  his  friend  Coleridge  he  wrote,  "God  has  preserved  me 
in  my  senses  ...  I am  left  to  take  care  of  my  poor  father  and 
aunt  . . . Thank  God,  I am  calm  and  composed,  and  able  to  do  the 
best  that  remains  to  do.  Write , as  religious  a letter  as  possible 
. . .1  charge  you  don't  think  of  coming  to  see  me.  Write.  I will 
not  see  you  if  you  come."-*-  Coleridge  in  a letter  which  Lamb 
termed  "an  inestimable  treasure"  replied,  "I  look  upon  you  as  a 
man  called  by  sorrow  and  anguish  and  a strange  desolation  of  hopes 
into  quietness,  and  a soul  set  apart  and  made  peculiar  to  God;  we 
cannot  arive  at  any  portion  of  heavenly  bliss  without  in  some 
measure  imitating  Christ.  And  they  arrive  at  the  largest  inherit- 
ance who  imitate  the  most  difficult  parts  of  his  character,  and 
bowed  down  and  crushed  under  foot,  cry  in  fullness  of  faith, 

'Father,  thy  will  be  done.'  You  are  a temporary  sharer  in  human 
miseries  that  you  may  be  an  eternal  partaker  of  the  Divine  nature." 
Charles'  tender  love  for  his  sister,  and  his  great  sympathy  for 
humanity  in  general,  manifested  throughout  his  whole  life,  proved 
Coleridge's  words  to  be  a true  prophecy.  It  may  be  noted  here  that 
Charles  Lamb  had  spent  six  weeks  in  an  asylum  at  Hoxton  during  the 
last  part  of  1795  and  the  first  part  of  1796.  After  the  father's 
death  Charles  brought  Mary  home  when  her  condition  permitted,  but 
the  periods  of  her  insanity  frequently  returned.  "A  friend  of 
Lambs  has  related  how  on  one  occasion  he  met  the  brother  and  sister 
at  such  a season,  walking  hand  in  hand  across  the  fields  to  the  old 

pAinger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.44. 

^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.95. 


9 


asylum,  bathed  in  tears." 

But  "between  the  acts"  Mary  was  intelligent  and  her 
interest  in  literature  made  her  very  companionable  for  her  brother. 
They  read,  studied,  and  wrote  together.  The  pleasure  he  enjoyed  in 
the  home  with  his  sister  may  be  guessed  from  these  words  of  Lamb. 
"She  has  left  me  very  lonely  and  very  miserable  . . . There  is  no 
rest  but  at  one’s  fireside,  and  there  is  no  rest  for  me  there  now. 

. . . It  cuts  great  slices  out  of  the  time,  the  little  time  we  shall 
have  to  live  together."2  How  like  the  words  of  a devoted  husband! 

Lamb  found  relief  from  the  burdens  of  sorrow  and  labor 
in  the  theater.  During  the  thirty  years  of  employment  at  the  East 
India  House  Lamb  always  felt  the  restraint,  and  wished  for  a few 
years  between  the  "grave  and  the  desk."  He  says,  "I  sit  like 
Philomel  all  day  (but  not  singing)  with  my  breast  against  this 

*7. 

thorn  of  a desk."  But  in  the  theater  he  forgot  his  troubles.  His 
disillusion  of  the  stage  after  his  return  from  Christ's  Hospital 
did  not  destroy  for  all  time  his  enjoyment  of  the  theater.  Soon 
after  his  disillusion  he  saw  Mrs.  Siddon  in  Isabella,  and  exper- 
ienced genuine  emotions  again.  From  this  time  the  theater  became 
a favorite  recreation.  After  1789  he  was  a good  theater  goer.  He 
said,  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  stuttering  he  might  have  become  an 
actor.  Although  it  is  probable  that  he  received  complimentary 
tickets  through  the  influence  of  hi3  godfather  Fielde,  yet  he  refers 
to  the  economy  he  and  his  sister  practiced  in  order  to  "squeeze  out 

^Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters . vol.  5,  p.33. 

«Ibid.  p. 95. 

^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  2,  p.86. 


10 


a few  shillings”  that  they  might  sit  in  the  gallery  three  or  four 
times  each  season.  In  the  essay  on  "Old  China,"  Cousin  Bridget, 
who  was  in  truth  his  sister  Mary,  tells  how  he  was  ashamed  for 
bringing  her  to  the  gallery,  but,  says  she,  "when  the  curtain  went 
up,  what  cared  we  for  our  place  in  the  house,  when  our  thoughts 
were  with  Rosalind  in  Arden,  or  with  Viola  at  the  court  of 
Illyria?"  Then  she  refers  to  his  pride  saying,  "now  we  can  only 
pay  our  money  and  walk  in.  You  cannot  see,  you  say,  in  the 
galleries  now.  I am  sure  we  saw,  and  heard  too,  well  enough  then  -- 
but  sight,  and  all,  I think  is  gone  with  our  poverty." 

At  different  times  Lamb's  salary  had  been  increased,  until 
he  could  maintain  a comfortable  home.  By  this  time  his  literary 
reputation  had  made  a place  for  him  in  the  social  life  of  London, 
particularly  with  literary  men  and  players.  He  refers  to  the  honor 
of  having  been  admitted  to  the  tea  table  of  Miss  Kelly;  of  having 
chatted  with  Mrs.  Charles  Kemble,  and  conversed  as  friend  to  friend 
with  her  accomplished  husband;  of  having  been  indulged  with  a 
classical  conference  with  Macready;  of  having  been  entertained  in 
the  Player-picture  gallery  at  Mr.  Matthews'.  No  doubt  Lamb  had 
other  friends  among  the  stage  folk,  as  he  seemed  well  acquainted 
with  personal  characteristics  of  John  Kemble,  Dickey  Sscett,  John 
Palmer,  Elliston,  Liston  and  Munden. 

In  1882  the  Lambs  visited  Paris  and  were  entertained  by 
James  Kenny  the  dramatist,  who  was  at  that  time  living  in  Paris. 

He  introduced  Lamb  to  Talma  the  tragedian,  who  was  playing  in 
Regulus.  It  was  arranged  that  Lamb  should  attend  the  theater  and 
afterward  sup  with  Talma  at  the  Hotel  de  l'Europa.  During  the 
evening  Lamb  having  paid  no  compliment  to  the  tragedian.  Talma  asked 


.. 

. 


1 


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11 


his  opinion  of  the  performance,  hut  Lamb  only  smiled.  "Ah!"  said 
Talma,  "I  was  not  happy  tonight;  you  must  see  me  in  Sylla. — 

" ' Incidit  in  Scyllara,'"  said  Lamb,  " ' qui  vult  vitare  Charybdim. ' " 

" Ah!  you  are  a rogue;  you  are  a great  rogue,"  said  Talma,  shaking 
him  cordially  by  the  hand  as  they  parted.1 

Of  all  the  actresses  Lamb  was  partial  to  Fanny  Kelly.  His 
admiration  ended  in  love.  This  was  his  second  romance,  the  first 
having  taken  place  before  1795,  while  visiting  at  Blakesware.  After 
seeing  Miss  Kelly  play  Rachel  in  The  Jovial  Crew  he  went  home  and 
wrote  her  a letter  of  proposal.  She  may  have  been  prepared  for 
this  letter  by  his  favorable  criticism  in  The  Examiner  in  which  he 
said,  "What  a lass  that  were  to  go  gypsying  through  the  world  with." 
In  the  letter  he  first  complimented  her  on  "a  most  consummate  piece 
of  acting,"  then  after  expressing  his  sympathy  for  some  sorrow,  he 
continued,  "Would  to  God  you  were  released  from  this  way  of  life; 
that  you  could  bring  your  mind  to  consent  to  take  your  lot  with  us, 
and  throw  off  forever  the  whole  burden  of  your  profession?  He 
asked  her  to  consider  it  at  leisure,  then  referred  to  his  income, 
and  in  a modest  way  continued:  "I  am  not  so  foolish  as  not  to  know 
that  I am  most  unworthy  for  such  a one  as  you,  but  you  have  for 
years  been  a principal  object  in  my  mind.  In  many  a sweet  assumed 
character  I have  learned  to  love  you,  but  simply  as  F.  M.  Kelly. 

I love  you  better  than  them  all.  Can  you  quit  these  shadows  of 
existence  and  come  and  be  a reality  to  us?  As  plainly  and  frankly 
as  I have  seen  you  give  or  refuse  assent  in  some  feigned  scene,  so 
frankly  do  me  the  justice  to  answer  me." 

jLucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  2,  p.88. 

^Ibid.  vol.  2,  p. 15. 


. 


- 

. 


13 


Kenny  with  a tremulous  pleasure,  announces  that  there  is  a crowd 
to  the  ninth  representation  of  his  new  comedy,  of  which  Lamb  lays 
down  his  cards  to  inquire;  or  Ayrton,  mildly  radiant  whispers  the 
continued  triumph  of  Don  Giovanni,  for  which  Lamb,  incapable  of 
opera,  is  happy  to  take  his  word.  Now  and  then  an  actor  glances  at 
us  from  'the  rich  Cathay*  of  the  world  behind  the  scenes  — Liston, 
grave  beneath  the  weight  of  the  town's  regards  — or  Miss  Kelly 
unexhausted  in  spirit  by  alternating  the  drolleries  of  high  farce 
with  the  terrible  pathos  of  melodrama,  or  Charles  Kemble  mirrors  the 
chivalry  of  thought,  and  ennobles  the  party  by  bending  on  them  looks 
beaming  with  the  aristocracy  of  nature. On  these  occasions, 
Talfourd  says:  "Becky  lays  the  cloth  on  the  side  table,  under  the 
direction  of  the  most  quiet,  sensible,  and  kind  of  women  — who  soon 
compels  the  younger  and  more  hungry  of  the  guests  to  partake  largely 
of  the  cold  roast  lamb  or  boiled  beef,  the  heaps  of  smoking  roasted 
potatoes,  and  the  vast  jug  of  porter  ...  As  the  hot  water  and  its 
accompaniments  appear,  and  the  severities  of  whist  relax,  the  light 
of  conversation  thickens:  Hazlitt  catching  the  influence  of  the 
spirit  from  which  he  has  lately  begun  to  abstain,  utters  some  fine 
criticism  with  struggling  emphasis;  emphasis;  Lamb  stammers  out 
puns  suggestive  of  wisdom;  while  Mary  Lamb  moves  gently  about  to  see 
that  each  modest  stranger  is  duly  served."  These  evenings  were  very 
informal,  the  guests  rose  and  helped  themselves  when  it  suited  them. 
Often,  when  Lamb  became  quite  jubilant,  he  would  run  to  Mary  and 
slap  her  on  the  back.  Hazlitt  in  his  essay  "On  the  Conversation  of 
Authors"  says,  "How  we  got  into  the  heart  of  controversy!  How  we 

^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.374. 


■ 


1 


I 


' 


■ 


12 

Miss  Kelly's  "divine  plain  face"  had  won  other  suitors  and 
twice  in  her  career,  she  was  fired  at  on  the  stage  by  some  mad 
lover.  Miss  Kelly  returned  an  answer,  the  same  day  she  received  it, 
declining  his  proposal,  but  showing  her  respect  in  the  following 
words,  " I am  not  insensible  to  the  high  honor  which  the  preference 
of  such  a mind  as  yours  confers  upon  me."1  After  another  short, 
humorous  letter  in  which  Lamb  asked  that  they  might  remain  friends, 
the  curtain  descended  upon  this  short  love  scene,  and  the  romance 
of  his  life  was  ended.  Yet,  it  might  be  interesting  to  relate  that 
Miss  Kelly  continued  her  visits  to  the  Lambs'  and  she  died  unmarried 
at  the  age  of  ninety-two. 

The  Lambs  had  many  friends  and  received  invitations  where 
they  met  people  of  social  rank  as  well  as  literary  friends.  Besides 
this  social  life,  Charles  Lamb  was  a member  of  a club  composed  of 
contributors  to  the  London  Magazine . Among  the  members  were  Southey, 
Hazlitt,  Hunt,  Charles  and  Robert  Lloyd.  If  Coleridge  or  Wordsworth 
were  in  town  they  were  present.  The  evenings  were  spent  in 
criticism  and  discussions  of  current  literature,  books,  and  authors. 
Not  infrequently  Lamb,  who  was  susceptible  to  intoxicants  imbibed 
too  much  on  these  occasions.  The  stimulant  enabled  him  to  talk  more 
easily,  but  affected  his  sensitive  nerves. 

But  most  delightful  of  all  such  companionship  was  the  open 
house  kept  by  Lamb  on  Wednesday  nights,  after  he  became  financially 
able  to  entertain  his  friends.  Talfourd  gives  an  interesting  picture 
of  one  of  these  evenings  held  at  No.  4 Inner  Temple.  The  room 
decorated  with  Hogarth  prints  is  set  with  whist-tables.  Charles  is 
sitting  intently  playing,  when  about  ten  o'clock  the  room  begins  to 
fill.  Talfourd  says,  "In  slouches  Hazlitt  from  the  theater  . . . 


1 


■ 

, 


I 


■ 


14 


skimmed  the  cream  of  criticism!  How  we  picked  the  marrow  of 

1 

authors ! " 

Lamb  did  not  permit  the  illusion  of  the  theater,  or  com- 
panionship of  his  friends  to  occupy  all  his  hours  of  recreation.  As 
we  have  already  noted,  he  enjoyed  the  quiet  fireside,  his  book,  and 
the  companionship  of  his  sister.  In  the  essay  "Mackery  End  in 
Hertfordshire"  he  says,  "We  are  both  great  readers  in  different 
directions.  While  I am  hanging  over  (for  the  thousandth  time)  some 
passage  in  old  Burton  or  one  of  his  strange  contemporaries,  she  is 
abstracted  in  some  modern  tale  or  adventure  . . . Out-of-the-way 
humours  and  opinions  — heads  with  6ome  diverting  twist  in  them  — 
the  oddities  of  authorship,  please  me  most."  He  was  delighted  with 
Walton's  Complete  Angler  and  fascinated  by  the  Confessions  of 
Rousseau.  For  a time  he  was  under  the  influence  of  the  sentimental- 
ists Richardson  and  Sterne,2  but  most  of  all  he  enjoyed  the  old 
Elizabethan  dramatists. 

He  spent  vacation  hours  in  picture  galleries,  or  browsed 
about  old  book  stalls  seeking  this  rare  literature.  During  his 
life  he  collected  a library  of  some  size  and  value.  The  brother 
and  sister  made  sacrifices  when  they  were  poor  in  order  to  purchase 
books.  Charles  wore  an  "old  brown  suit  until  his  friends  cried 
shame"  in  order  to  buy  a folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  for  fifteen 
or  sixteen  shillings.  Again  Cousin  Bridget,  in  the  essay  "Old 
China",  says:  "Do  you  remember  how  we  eyed  it  for  weeks  before  we 
could  make  up  our  minds  to  the  purchase,  and  had  not  come  to  the 
determination  till  it  was  near  ten  o'clock  of  the  Saturday  night, 

^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.378. 

2Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters . vol.  5,  p.36. 


■ 


' 


r 


■ 


■ 


15 


when  you  set  off  from  Islington  fearing  you  should  be  too  late.” 
Charles  Lamb  wakened  the  book-seller  and  secured  the  coveted  volume. 
After  returning  home  he  insisted,  in  his  boyish  impatience,  that 
Mary  should  repair  some  loose  leaves  that  night,  he  could  not  wait 
till  morning. 

In  personal  appearance  Lamb  was  somewhat  odd  and  antiquated. 
In  dress  he  looked  like  a minister.  The  French  critic,  Philarete 
Chasles,  has  given  an  interesting  description  of  him.  He  says:  "I 
was  at  James  Valpy's  one  evening  in  June,  1818  . . . when  a little, 
dark,  old  fellow  came  in;  one  could  only  distinguish  a head,  then 
big  shoulders,  then  a delicate  body,  and  finally  two  artistically 
slender  legs,  which  were  almost  imperceptible.  Under  his  arm  was 
a green  umbrella,  and  over  his  eyes  a very  old  hat.  Wit,  sweetness, 
melancholy,  and  gaiety  gushed  forth  in  torrents  from  this  extra- 
ordinary physiognomy  . . . There  was  neither  health,  nor  strength 
and  scarcely  sufficient  anatomical  reality  on  those  poor  spindles, 
clothed  in  stockings  of  Chinese  silk,  ending  in  impossible  feet, 
encased  in  large  shoes,  which  placed  flatly  on  the  ground  advanced 
slowly  in  the  manner  of  a web-footed  creature.  But  one  did  not 
notice  these  singularities  one  saw  only  the  magnif iciently  developed 
forehead,  on  which  his  lustrous  black  hair  curled  naturally,  the 
great,  sad  eyes  . . . the  excessively  fine  nostrils  . . . the 
curves  of  the  nose  very  like  that  of  Jean  Jaques  in  his  portraits. 

. . .The  pose  of  the  head  lent  dignity  — intellectual  dignity  to 
this  weakly  and  disproportioned  organization.”'1 


^Lucas,  The  Life  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  3,  p.  8. 


' 


I 

' 


. 


- 


16 

Lamb  was  affectionate  and  sympathetic.  The  epithets 
"lovable''  and  "gentle-hearted"  are  frequently  used  to  characterize 
him.  His  devotion  to  his  sister  was  extraordinary.  He  bestowed 
paternal  affections  upon  Emma  Isola,  an  orphan,  whom  he  adopted. 
Lamb,  early  in  life  assumed  the  responsibilities  of  a man,  yet  he 
was  always  a "boy",  never  having  lost  the  fancies  and  imagination 
of  his  childhood.  He  was  highly  emotional,  and  passed  from  moods 
of  melancholy  to  joyous  hilarity.  His  environment  played  upon  his 
emotions  as  the  wind  upon  a lyre.  At  times  he  was  perverse  and 
blunt,  especially  in  the  presence  of  those  who  disliked  him.  He  was 
humorous.  He  loved  jokes  and  puns.  He  remarked  to  Macready,  "that 
the  last  breath  he  drew  in,  he  wished  might  be  through  a pipe,  and 
exhaled  in  a pun."-2-  He  was  whimsical  in  his  writings,  and  his 
dearest  friends  were  sometimes  the  victims  of  his  jokes.  He  said, 
"of  all  lies"  he  ever  "put  off"  he  valued  the  biographies  of 
Liston  and  Munden,  as  they  were  all  "pure  invention  and  has  passed 
for  gospel."  It  was  his  sympathetic  nature  and  his  frolicsome  dis- 
position, together  with  natural  refinement  and  good  sense  that  drew 
so  many  friends  to  his  Wednesday  evenings. 

Lamb  was  a romanticist.  He  turned  away  from  modern  litera- 
ture and  sought  the  old  romantic  literature  in  old  book  stalls.  He 
was  an  antiquarian  in  belles  lettres . He  loved  old  London.  It  was 
as  romantic  to  him,  as  the  Lake  Region  was  to  Wordsworth.  Yet,  in 
the  essay  "Dream  Children,"  Lamb  sees  nature  as  a romanticist.  He 
says:  "I  had  more  pleasure  in  strolling  about  among  old  melancholy 
looking  yew  trees,  or  lying  about  upon  the  fresh  grass  with  all  the 


-^-Lucas,  Life  of  Char le s Lamb,  vol.  2,  p.260. 


. 


■ 


. 


17 


garden  smells,  or  basking  in  the  orangery  till  I could  fancy  myself 
ripening  along  with  the  oranges  and  limes  in  their  grateful  warmth. " 
Yet  he  has  more  fascination  for  the  nature  of  man,  and  it  is  this 
that  he  is  seeking  in  the  old  English  literature.  He  is  original, 
his  Lambisms  are  inimitable.  He  is  subjective,  his  biography  may 
be  read  in  his  works  for  he  expresses  himself  in  all  his  writings. 
But  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  romantic  characteristics 
is  the  enjoyment  of  emotion.  He  says,  "I  would  scarce  now  have  any 
of  those  untoward  accidents  and  events  of  my  life  reversed  . . . 
Methinks  it  is  better  that  I should  have  pined  away  seven  of  my 
goldenest  years  when  I was  thrall  to  the  fair  hair  and  fairer  eyes 
of  Alice  W.  than  that  so  passionate  a love  adventure  should  be 
lost.”1  In  writing  to  Coleridge  of  his  experience  in  the  asylum  he 
says,  ”1  look  back  on  it  at  times  with  a glowing  kind  of  envy;  for 
while  it  lasted,  I had  many  hours  of  pure  happiness.  Dream  not 
Coleridge  of  having  tasted  all  the  grandeur  and  wildness  of  fancy 
till  you  have  gone  mad."^ 

Lamb's  greatest  desire  was  to  become  a dramatist,  but,  he 
won  his  fame  in  English  literature  as  an  essayist.  The  Essays  of 
Elia  alone  would  rank  him  high  among  essayists.  He  has  written 
about  twenty  dramatic  essays  which  we  purpose  to  discuss  in  the 
second  chapter. 

In  1796  Lamb  began  what  proved  to  be  an  extensive  letter 
writing  of  literary  importance.  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth  were  his 
first  literary  correspondents.  His  letters  contain  criticisms  of 


^Elia  Essays.  "New  Year's  Eve” 

Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  Letters , vol.  1,  p.22. 


, 


' 


. 


18 

their  poems.  He  kept  in  touch  with  many  of  his  friends  through 
letters.  Among  these  friends  were  Hunt,  Robert  and  Charles  Lloyd, 
Hazlitt,  Talfourd,  whom  Lamb  introduced  as  "my  only  admirer,"  Payne, 
and  Godwin. 

In  1807,  The  Tales  of  Shakespeare  were  published.  Charles 
Lamb  i3  responsible  for  Lear,  Macbeth,  Timon,  Romeo,  Hamlet,  and 
Othello,  but  Mary  Lamb  did  the  rest  with  some  assistance  from  her 
brother.  In  these  stories  the  authors  have  interwoven  phrases  of 
Shakespeare  which  in  beauty  and  imagination  had  appealed  to  them  in 
childhood.  These  stories  made  Shakespeare  a more  familiar  and 
popular  author.  This  collection  was  "one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
landmarks  in  the  history  of  the  romantic  movement."'1 

Through  the  friendship  of  Coleridge,  Lamb  became  interested 
in  writing  poetry,  but  few  of  his  poems,  however,  are  well  known. 

His  early  poems  were  published  in  a collection  with  those  of 
Coleridge  and  Charles  Lloyd.  Coleridge  sometimes  made  changes  in 
Lamb's  poems,  to  which  Lamb  objected.  He  wrote  to  Coleridge  saying, 
"I  love  my  sonnets  because  they  are  the  reflected  images  of  my  own 
feelings  at  different  times  ...  I love  my  own  feelings:  they  are 
dear  to  memory,  though  they  now  and  then  wake  a sigh  or  a tear. 
'Thinking  on  divers  things  foredone,’  I charge  you,  Coleridge,  spare 
my  ewe  lambs;  ...  in  a sonnet,  a personal  poem,  I do  not  'ask  my 
friend  the  aiding  verse.’  I would  not  wrong  your  feelings  by  pro- 
posing any  improvements  in  such  personal  poems."6  One  of  these 
sonnets  in  which  Lamb  has  expressed  his  own  feelings,  is  to  Miss 

^ Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  12,  p.209. 

2 

Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  vol.  1,  p.25. 


, 

• ' . 


■ 


, 


; 


■ 


19 


Kelly. 

’’You  are  not  Kelly  of  the  common  strain, 

That  stoop  their  pride  and  female  honour  down 
To  please  that  many  headed  beast  the  town. 

And  vend  their  lavish  smiles  and  tricks  for  gain; 
By  fortune  thrown  amid  the  actor's  train, 

You  keep  your  native  dignity  of  thought; 

The  plaudits  that  attend  you  come  unsought, 

As  tributes  due  unto  your  natural  vein. 

Your  tears  have  passion  in  them  and  a grace 
Of  genuine  freshness,  which  our  hearts  avow; 

Your  smiles  are  winds  whose  ways  we  cannot  trace, 
And  vanish  and  return  we  know  not  how  — 

And  please  the  better  from  a pensive  face 
And  thoughtful  eye,  and  a reflecting  brow.” 


But  essays,  letters  and  poetry  were  not  the  goal  of 
Lamb's  ambition.  He  wanted  most  of  all  to  become  a disciple  of 
Shakespeare.  When  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age  he  began  to 
write  his  first  drama,  John  Woodvil  a tragedy.  His  next  attempt  was 
a farce  entitled  Mr.  EL_,  the  only  one  of  his  plays  presented  on  the 
stage.  After  several  years  he  added  two  more  plays  to  his  list,  a 
tragi-comedy  called  The  Wife ' s Trial  and  a farce  called  The 
Pawnbroker ' s Daughter.  Each  of  ihese  plays  will  be  discussed  in  the 
third  chapter. 

We  may  conclude  this  chapter  by  saying  that  Lamb's  life  is 
one  of  the  most  interesting  of  English  writers.  His  life  was 
beautiful  and  it  was  tragical.  He  had  the  disadvantages  of  physical 
weakness  from  childhood.  He  inherited  a strain  of  insanity.  He 

I 

experienced  a tragedy  in  his  own  family.  He  struggled  for  a time 
with  poverty  as  well  as  sorrow.  He  was  twice  disappointed  in  love. 

He  suffered  the  loss  of  his  dearest  friend,  Coleridge.  But  in  spite 
of  all  his  disappointments  and  sorrow  Lamb  met  the  situation  with 
fortitude.  His  sense  of  humor  afforded  a mental  balance.  From 
some  broken  fragments  he  pieced  together  a home  which  he  enjoyed 


; 


' 


, 


■ 


20 


with  his  friends.  He  lived  to  see  his  genius  recognized.  He  could 
smile  at  the  world  though  his  smile  was  tinged  with  sadness.  What 
a delightful  comedian  he  might  have  been,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
his  stammering  tongue.  It  may  be  truthfully  said,  his  life  was  a 
tragi -comedy. 


' " ""  varo* 

. 


■ 


CHAPTER  TWO 
LAMB  AS  A CRITIC 

When  the  Romanticists  of  the  nineteenth  century  played  an 
important  role  in  English  literature,  they  had  in  their  group 
critics  who  were  representative  of  the  romantic  movement.  These 
critics  sought  to  express  their  imagination  and  emotion  as  well  as 
the  poets.  They  were  impressionists  who  depended  not  on  their 
judgment  but  on  their  sensibility.  "Their  business  with  a work  of 
art  was  to  feel  keenly  its  charm,  to  describe  accurately  the 
impression  that  it  made  upon  them,  and  so  to  transmit  their  pleas- 
ure to  the  reader."'1  In  England  this  method  originated  with  the 
revival  of  interest  in  Medieval  life  and  in  the  Elizabethan  poetry. 
These  works  were  "indefensible  before  a literal  interpretation  of 
the  Aristotelian  law. . . . The  method  "rose  in  response  to  a 
demand  for  some  one  who  would  dare  to  be  pleased  without  giving  a 
reason  why."1 

Charles  Lamb  was  one  who  dared.  He  with  Hazlitt  and  Hunt 

r-7 

formed  "the  most  winsome  group  of  English  impressionists."0  They 
were  all  lovers  of  the  stage  and  possessed  knowledge,  insight,  and 
imagination,  but  Lamb  was  a general  favorite.  Brander  Matthews 
says,  "Coleridge  bids  us  'compare  Charles  Lamb's  exquisite  criti- 
cisms on  Shakespeare  with  Hazlitt 's  round  and  round  imitation  of 


^Sherman,  Matthew  Arnold,  How  to  Know  Him.  p.152. 

flbid.  P.  tbt: 

"Ibid.  p.152. 


32 


them;  and  to  Leigh  Hunt  such  a comparison  would  be  less  favorable.”1 
As  a critic  of  Shakespeare  and  his  followers.  Lamb  had  no 
predecessor  for  his  master.  He  was  original  in  his  work.  However, 
in  the  second  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Colley  Cibber  had 
skillfully  portrayed  a gallery  of  English  actors,  and  it  is  with 
him  that  Lamb  seems  to  vie  in  his  portrayal  of  the  Old  Actors.  "It 
is  not  easy  to  say  which  is  the  more  artful,  as  a painter  of  players 
Colley  Cibber  or  Charles  Lamb.  Beside  the  full  length  portraits  of 
Betterton,  Mrs.  Barry  and  Mrs.  Bracebridge  — speaking  likeness 
every  one  of  them,  soundly  drawn  and  mellow  in  color,  — may  be 
placed  the  group  from  Twelfth  Night,  which  we  find  in  the  ’Essays 
of  Elia, ' — Mrs.  Jordan  as  Viola,  Bensley  as  Malvolio,  Dodd  as  Sir 
Andrew,  and  Dicky  Suett  as  the  clown.  And  Cibber  of  course  was 
wholly  without  the  boundless  humour  that  has  depicted  for  us  a few 
of  the  five  hundred  faces  of  Munden."^ 

Among  the  English  critics  none  is  entitled  to  speak  with 
more  authority  on  the  Old  English  Dramatists  than  Charles  Lamb.  His 
letters  and  essays  show  that  he  was  devoted  to  Shakespeare,  and  that 
he  spent  many  happy  hours  in  reading  the  plays  of  the  Elizabethan 
dramatists.  "He  lived  in  communion  with  this  older  literature.  It 
was  to  him  inexhaustible  in  amount  and  excellence  and  he  was 
impatient  with  what  sought  to  turn  his  attention  from  it."  But 
Lamb  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  old  literature,  he  read  exten- 
sively; and  boasted  that  he  could  read  anything  he  called  a book, 
that  Shaftesbury  was  not  too  genteel  nor  Jonathan  Wild  too  low.  He 

^Matthews,  The  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb . p.13. 

glbid.  p . 13 . 

Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters . Voi.  5,  p.185. 


I 


not  only  read  extensively  but  he  criticised  "deeply  and  discur- 
sively," a habit  that  resulted  from  his  training  at  Christ's 
Hospital. 


23 


Besides  his  knowledge  of  literature  and  his  artistic 
taste,  his  play-going  habit  prepared  him  for  the  work  of  a critic. 

As  David  Garrick,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  had  revived  a new 
interest  in  the  acting  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  which  had  not  abated 
in  Lamb's  day,  he  was  privileged  to  see  the  great  master-pieces 
again  and  again,  with  different  actors  appearing  in  the  same  role. 

Besides  these  acquirements  Lamb  possessed  native  quali- 
ties for  a critic.  Arnold  says,  "The  critic  who  rightly  appreciates 
a great  man  or  a great  work,  and  who  can  tell  us  faithfully  what 
we  may  expect  from  their  study  and  what  they  can  do  for  us;  he  is 
the  critic  we  want,  by  whatever  method,  intuitive  or  historical,  he 
may  have  managed  to  get  his  knowledge."1'  Lamb's  intelligence,  his 
powerful  imagination  and  emotion  enabled  him  to  appreciate  a "great 
work."  It  was  the  divine  gift  of  imagination  which  enabled  him  to 
reproduce  the  spirit  of  the  dramatist  and  to  transmit  his  pleasure 
to  the  reader.  The  tragic  experiences  of  his  life  cultivated  a 
native  affection  and  sympathy  to  a high  degree.  He  sympathized  with 
humanity  in  general,  but  particularly  with  those  whose  hearts  were 
burdened  with  sorrow.  As  Coleridge  says,  he  was  "A  man  called  by 
sorrow  and  a strange  desolation  of  hopes  . . . set  apart  and  made 
peculiar  to  God."  His  sense  of  humor  seemed  akin  to  pathos,  as  if 
it  were  an  outlet  for  deeper  emotions.  These  native  qualities  of 
the  man  enabled  him  to  enter  the  world  of  illusion  or  make-believe 


Works 


of  Matthew  Arnold. 


Vol . 


10,  p. 245. 


< 


24 


of  the  stage.  He  could  sense  the  situation  of  the  characters  of  a 
play,  and  his  keen  poetic  insight  passed  judgment  on  the  excellence 
of  the  poet  or  actor. 

A good  critic,  Arnold  says,  should  be  well  informed, 
intelligent,  disinterested,  open-minded,  sympathetic,  elastic  in 
mind,  and  cheerful.^  Lamb  possessed  most  of  these  qualifications, 
but  he  was  not  disinterested,  or  always  open-minded.  He  was 
affected  by  his  environment,  and  biased  by  his  likes  and  dislikes. 
What  he  disliked  he  ignored,  and  what  he  liked  he  had  a tendency  to 
exaggerate.  In  a whimsical  way  he  mixed  fact  and  fiction.  He  was 
fond  of  the  paradox.  Eecause  of  his  whimsical  writing  he  has  been 
called  the  "Ariel  of  Criticism.” 

As  an  impressionist  his  excellence  was  due  to  his 
sensibility.  The  thing  he  liked  best  was  his  standard  of  criticism. 
He  was  charmed  with  the  Old  Actors  and  the  plays  of  Shakespeare. 

He  compared  all  acting  with  that  of  his  favorite  Old  Actors,  and  all 
plays  with  those  of  Shakespeare. 

Lamb's  criticisms  have  an  informal  note  about  them.  They 
seem  written  for  the  benefit  of  the  reader  and  not  to  gain  prom- 
inence for  the  author.  Some  are  contained  in  letters  written  to 
his  friends.  Godwin  and  Robert  Lloyd  were  two  of  his  correspondents 
who  received  letters  containing  interesting  dramatic  ideas.  Godwin 

sought  Lamb's  help  on  his  tragedies  and  received  some  valuable 

2 

hints  from.  him.  Brander  Matthews  says,  ”These  two  letters  of  Lamb 
to  Godwin  should  be  studied  by  all  who  seek  for  success  on  the  stage 


jwprks  of  Matthew  Arnold.  Vol.  10,  p.245. 

Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  Letters.  Vol.  1,  p.52. 


. 


25 


They  are  full  not  only  of  that  criticism  of  life  which  is  the  only 
true  criticism  of  Literature,  but  of  a knowledge  of  stage  devices, 
and  of  the  means  whereby  an  audience  may  be  taken  captive,  very 
remarkable  in  one  who  could  not  apply  his  own  precepts."^  In  a 

p 

letter  to  Robert  Lloyd  we  read  Lamb's  interpretation  of 
Shakespeare's  villain  Richard  the  Third,  and  his  criticism  of 
Cook's  impersonation  of  that  character,  but  we  shall  refer  to 
these  later  in  this  chapter. 

But  most  of  Lamb's  criticisms  are  included  in  essays  which 
■were  published  in  the  magazines.  The  most  valuable  of  these  essays 
from  the  dramatic  standpoint  are:  "On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors,"  in 
which  he  gives  portraits  of  the  characters  in  Twelfth  Night : "The 

Tragedies  of  Shakespeare,"  in  which  he  discusses  their  fitness  for 
the  stage;  "The  Artificial  Comedy  of  the  Last  Century,"  in  which 
he  upholds  Congreve  and  Wycherley's  plays;  and  "Stage  Illusions,"  in 
which  he  gives  some  valuable  ideas  for  actors.  The  most  important 
of  his  criticisms  in  its  influence  on  English  literature  is 
Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets  Contemporary  with  Shakespeare . 
published  in  1808.  From  these  Specimens  Lamb  made  a selection  which 
was  published  in  1818  with  his  collected  works. 

After  Lamb  had  assumed  the  responsibilities  of  a man  he 
sought  in  the  theater  his  world  of  illusion,  and  here  he  found 
solace  from  the  tragedy  of  real  life.  To  him  the  dramatis  personae 
seemed  to  belong  to  another  realm;  they  were  "fictitious  and  half- 
believed  personages"  who  were  not  to  be  judged  by  the  courts  of 


^Matthews,  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb . p.19. 

3See  note  2,  p.  24.  Ibid.  p.43. 


■ 


36 


common  law,  but  "in  proportion  to  the  illusion  they  produced.” 

The  principle  of  illusion  was  the  basis  of  Lamb's  criticism  of  the 
theater  as  opposed  to  realism.  Lamb  attended  the  theater  to  forget 
the  reality  of  life,  not  to  confirm  it.  He  did  not  wish  to  see  his 
brothers,  aunts,  and  kinsfolk  on  the  stage. 

I 

The  degree  of  illusion,  however,  must  depend  upon  the 
character  and  play.  "Comedians  may  be  too  natural."1  A comedy  does 
not  require  the  same  degree  of  credibility  as  serious  play.  "Macbeth 
must  see  the  dagger  . . . but  an  old  fool  in  a farce  may  think  he 
sees  something  and  by  conscious  words  and  looks  express  it,  as 
plainly  as  he  can  speak,  to  pit,  box,  and  gallery."'"  Lamb's  sensi- 
bility passes  judgment  against  any  notion  that  is  "repugnant  to  the 
moral  sense."  He  says  the  actor  would  show  artistic  skill  by  taking 
the  audience  partly  into  his  confidence  when  playing  certain  parts. 
For  instance,  "to  see  a coward  done  to  the  life  upon  a stage  would 
produce  anything  but  mirth.  Yet,"  he  says,  "we  most  of  us  remember 
Jack  Bannister's  cowards.  Could  anything  be  more  agreeable,  more 
pleasant?  We  loved  the  rogues.  How  was  this  affected  but  by  the 
exquisite  art  of  the  actor  in  a perpetual  sub insinuation  to  us,  the 
spectators,  even  in  the  extremity  of  the  shaking  fit  that  he  was 
not  half  such  a coward  as  we  took  him  for?"1  A real  miser  is  also 
repugnant  to  Lamb's  sensibility,  but  this  character  may  be  made 
endurable  to  the  audience  when  the  actor  "disarms  the  character  of  a 

1 „ 

"Stage  Illusions." 


' 

' 


. 


. 


27 


great  deal  of  its  odiousness  by  seeming  to  engage  our  compassion 
for  the  insecure  tenure  by  which  he  holds  his  money  bags  and  parch- 
ment.”1 Likewise,  in  acting  an  old  man  the  actor  "should  be  a 
"pleasant  counterfeit  just  enough  of  a likeness  to  recognize  with- 
out pressing  upon  us  the  uneasy  sense  of  reality."-1  This  illusion 
may  be  manifested  by  different  tricks.  Jack  Palmer's  villains  had 
two  voices,  one  for  the  audience  and  one  for  the  dramat i s personae . 

Lamb's  mind  was  alert  to  the  artist's  skill  and  his 
sensitive  soul^  registered  all  the  degrees  and  varieties  of  emotion. 
He  saw  the  facial  expression,  he  heard  the  melody  of  the  voice  and 
detected  its  note  of  mirth  or  of  sorrow.  His  soul  was  stirred  by 
nobility  and  greatness  of  character.  According  to  the  depths  to 
which  his  soul  was  stirred,  and  to  the  amount  of  enjoyment  received, 
he  measured  the  artistic  skill  of  the  players. 

Lamb  points  out  that  the  purpose  of  acting  is  "to  arrest  the 
spectator’s  eye  upon  form  and  gesture  so  as  to  gain  a more  favorable 
hearing."1  He  gives  a most  illuminating  description  of  the  facial 
expression  of  Dodd  in  Aguecheek.  He  says,  "You  could  see  the  first 
dawn  of  an  idea  stealing  slowly  over  his  countenance,  climbing  up 

little  by  little,  with  a painful  process,  till  it  cleared  up  at  last 

. 

to  the  fulness  of  a twilight  conception  — its  highest  meridian.  ... 
A glimmer  of  understanding  would  appear  in  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
and  for  lack  of  fuel  go  out  again.  A part  of  his  forehead  would 
catch  a little  intelligence,  and  be  a long  time  in  communicating  it 
to  the  remainder. Lamb  has  used  superlatives  in  describing 
Munden's  faces,  the  "strange  combinations"  which  he  "shot  his  proper 


In 

2 Tf 


Stage  Illusions." 

On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors." 


■ 


28 

countenance  into."  He  was  "not  one  but  legion";  not  so  much  a 
"comedian,  as  a company."  He  says,  they  should  have  been  preserved 
in  a "Munden  gallery."-1 

Lamb  had  a sensitive  ear  for  melody.  He  distinguished 
the  stately  declamation  of  Kemble  in  Shakespearian  role;  the 
triumphant  note  of  Bensley  in  Iago;  Dicky  Suett's  "0  La.’"  which  was 
"richer  than  a cuckoo."  In  Mrs.  Jordan's  acting  he  detected  the 
coarseness  of  her  voice  as  compared  with  her  early  days  when  it 
"sank  into  the  heart."  He  distinguished  Jack  Palmer's  two  voices 
"both  plausible,  hypocritical  and  insinuating,  his  secondary  or 
supplemental  voice  still  more  decisively  histronic  than  his  common 
one";  and  Dowton's  "childish  treble"  still  piped  in  his  ears. 

Some  of  these  criticisms  of  actors  are  in  fact  criticisms 
of  life.  In  them  Lamb  reflects  his  own  high  ideals.  He  says  of 
Mrs.  Jordan's  Giovanni  that  "she  has  taken  the  sting  from  the  evil 
thing."2  While  he  supported  Congreve's  and  Wycherley's  plays,  yet 
he  never  left  any  doubt  of  his  attitude  toward  morality,  for  he  says 
"translated  into  real  life"  the  characters  of  these  plays  are 
"profligates  and  strumpets."  He  loved  Jack  Bannister  off  the  stage 
for  his  sweet  good  natured  pretensions,  and  when  he  played  the 
Children  of  the  Wood  Lamb's  "whole  conscience"  was  stirred.  He 
declared  Miss  Kelly's  Yarico  was  "one  of  the  most  afflicting  lessons 

I 

of  the  yearnings  of  the  human  heart  and  its  mistakes  that  was  ever 
read  upon  the  stage. 

But  for  an  actor  to  be  great  he  must  have  not  only  high 

i"0n  the  Acting  of  Munden." 

"Theatrical  Criticisms." 


“■ ! 


. » ' 


29 

ideale  but  poetic  imagination.  Lamb  loved  the  gymnastics  of  the 
imagination  that  Munden  aroused  when  he  played  in  the  Cobbler  of 
Preston,  and  kept  "the  brain  of  the  spectator  in  as  wild  a ferment 
as  if  some  Arabian  Night  were  being  acted  before  him."1  He 
declared,  "a  table  or  a joint  stool  in  his  conception  rises  into  a 
dignity  equivalent  to  Cassiopeia’s  Chair"  and  "a  tub  of  butter  con- 
templated by  him  amounts  to  a Platonic  idea."2 

But  a play  however  great  may  be  leveled  to  mediocrity  by 
lack  of  judgment  and  intelligence  on  the  part  of  the  player. 

Lamb’s  idea  of  acting  was  "to  hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature."  The 
actor  must  distinguish  the  difference  between  a man  pushed  to  the 
extremity,  and  a wild  tiger.  A bloody  character  is  not  necessarily 
a monster.  He  objected  to  Cook's  caricature  of  Richard  III,  which 
represented  him  as  a bloody  monster,  and  failed  to  impress  the 
audience  with  "the  awe  and  deep  admiration  of  his  witty  parts,  his 
consummate  hypocrisy,  and  indefatigable  prosecution  of  purpose." 

Lamb's  ideas  of  artistic  acting  are  summed  up  in  his  dis- 
cussion of  three  favorites:  Bensley,  Dicky  Suett,  and  Miss  Kelly. 

He  states  in  the  essay  "On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors"  that,  "of  all 
the  actors  who  flourished  in  my  time  Bensley  had  the  greatest  swell 
of  soul.  . . He  had  the  true  poetical  enthusiasm,  the  rarest 
faculty  among  players  . . . His  voice  had  the  dissonance  and  at 
times  the  inspiriting  effect  of  the  trumpet.  His  gait  was  uncouth 
and  stiff,  but  in  no  way  embarrassed  by  affectation;  and  the 
thoroughbred  gentleman  was  uppermost  in  every  movement.  He  seized 

^’’Acting  of  Munden." 
flbid. 

^Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb, "Letters" . Vol.  1,  p.43. 


■ 


30 

the  moment  of  passion  with  greatest  truth;  like  a faithful  clock, 
never  striking  before  the  time  ...  He  was  totally  destitute  of 
trick  or  artifice.”  Bensley  seemed  to  reach  this  high  ideal  of 
impersonation  in  the  characters  of  Hotspur,  Iago,  and  Malvolio.  His 
Hotspur  showed  a "fine  madness";  his  Iago  was  "a  consummate  villain 
entrapping  a noble  nature";  and  his  Malvolio  was  not  a ludicrous 
fool  but  a cold,  austere,  repelling  but  dignified  Puritan,  "comic 
but  by  accident." 

Dicky  Suett  was  the  ideal  clown.  There  was  a daintiness 
about  him  that  Lamb  admired.  "He  was  the  Robin  Goodfellow  of  the 
stage.  He  came  in  to  trouble  all  things  with  a welcomed  perplexity. 
He  was  known  like  Puck,  by  his  note  — Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  sometimes  deepen- 
ing to  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!  with  an  irresistible  accession  of  0 La!  . . . 
Care,  that  troubles  all  the  world  was  forgotten  in  his  composition. 
Had  he  had  but  two  grains  (nay,  half  a grain)  of  it,  he  could  never 
have  supported  himself  upon  those  two  spider’s  strings,  which  served 
him  as  legs.  A doubt  or  a scruple  must  have  made  him  totter,  a 
sigh  have  puffed  him  down;  the  weight  of  a frown  had  staggered  him, 
a wrinkle  made  him  lose  hie  balance.  But  on  he  went  scrambling  upon 
those  airy  stilts  of  his  with  Robin  Goodfellow.  . . Shakespeare 
foresaw  him  when  he  framed  his  fools  and  jesters.  They  have  all  the 
Suett  Stamp,  a loose  shambling  gait,  a slippery  tongue,  this  last 
the  ready  midwife  to  a without-pain-de live red  jest,  in  words,  light 
as  air;  with  idlest  rhymes  tagging  conceit  when  busiest,  singing 
with  Lear  in  tempest,  or  Sir  Toby  at  the  buttery-hatch  . . . Dicky 
seemed  like  a thing,  as  Shakespeare  says  of  Love,  too  young  to  know 
what  conscience  is.  Evil  fled  from  him,  not  as  from  an  antagonist 
but  because  it  could  not  touch  him  any  more  than  a cannon  ball  a 


' 

' 


$ 


31 


1 

fly." 

Lamb  was  accused  of  flattering  Miss  Kelly  on  her  acting. 

He  says  when  she  played  the  part  of  a brother  of  seventeen  she  made 
"the  prettiest  unalarming  Platonic  approaches,  without  going  too 
far."  She  put  so  much  "good  sense  and  intelligence  into  every  part." 
Her  Yarico  was  "the  mo9t  intense  piece  of  acting,  and  the  most 
heart-rending  spectacle,"  he  had  ever  witnessed  and  it  was  due  to 

p 

nothing  more  than  her  "wonderful  imagination."  But  it  was,  as 
Rachel,  in  Richard  Brome's  Jovial  Crew  that  she  won  his  heart.  "She 
was  Princess  of  Mumpers  and  Lady  Paramount,  with  her  gabbling 
lachrymose  petitions;  her  tones  such  as  we  have  heard  by  the  side  of 
old  woods  when  an  irresistible  face  has  come  peeping  on  one  of  a 
sudden;  with  her  full  black  locks,  and  a voice  — how  shall  we 
describe  it?  a voice  that  was  by  nature  meant  to  convey  nothing 
but  truth  and  goodness  but  warped  by  circumstance  into  an  assurance 
that  she  is  telling  us  a lie,  that  catching  twitch  of  her  thievish 
irreprovable  finger  — those  ballad  singer  notes,  so  vulgar,  yet  so 
un vulgar;  that  assurance  so  like  impudence,  and  yet  so  many  count- 
less leagues  removed  from  it;  her  jeers  which  we  had  rather  stand 
than  be  caressed  with  other  ladies'  compliments  a summer's  day  long  - 
her  face  with  a wild  out-of-doors  grace  upon  it  . . . What  a lass 
that  were,"  he  says,  "to  go  gypsying  through  the  world  with."  Miss 
Kelly's  acting  illustrates  Lamb's  ideal  of  illusion  in  comedy 
characters.  As  a spectator  how  did  Lamb  respond  to  these  artists  of 
the  stage? 

^"On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors." 

2"Theatrical  Criticisms." 


. 

. 


■ 


32 


He  lived  the  scenes  in  his  imagination  as  he  did  in  his 
first  play,  but  now  with  a keen  insight  of  human  nature.  At  times 
he  was  unable  to  throw  off  the  illusion  after  leaving  the  theater. 
Miss  Kelly  as  Rachel  stirred  his  passion  of  love,  and  he  sent  her 
a letter  of  proposal  the  following  day.  Dowton  shook  his  ribs 
’’most  incontinently,”  and  his  lungs  "crowed  chanticleer.”  Dodd 
cleared  his  cloudy  face  of  its  furrows."  He  enjoyed  Bensley's 
illusion  in  Malvolio  and  "did  not  wish  that  it  whould  be  removed. 
Lamb  had  "no  room  for  laughter,"  for  his  deep  sense  of  pity  was 
stirred  by  the  "infirmity  of  man's  nature."  Munden's  Cockletop 
"stuck"  by  him  in  "a  manner  as  to  threaten  sleep,"1 2  and  no  sooner 
had  he  fallen  into  slumber  than  five  hundred  of  Munden's  faces  were 
dancing  before  him. 


II 

Lamb's  criticism  of  plays  represents  him  in  another 
relation  to  the  stage.  The  Specimens  established  his  reputation  as 
a critic.  This  collection  was  the  result  of  his  searching  in  the 
British  Museum,  for  the  old  manuscripts  of  the  early  dramatists, 
including  those  from  the  middle  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign  to  the 
close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  What  was  this  antiquarian  seeking 
in  these  old  plays?  He  says  the  purpose  of  the  Specimens  was  "to 
illustrate  what  may  be  called  the  moral  sense  of  our  ancestors.  To 
shew  in  what  manner  they  felt,  when  they  placed  themselves  by  the 


1 

o" Some  of  the  Old  Actors." 
"On  the  Acting  of  Munden." 


' 


**■ 


■ 

* 


. 

I 


33 

power  of  imagination  in  trying  circumstances,  in  the  conflicts  of 
duty  and  passion,  or  the  strife  of  contending  duties;  how  their 
griefs  were  tempered,  and  their  full-swoln  joys  abated;  how  much 
of  Shakespeare  shines  in  the  great  men  his  contemporaries,  and  how 
far  in  his  divine  mind  and  manners  he  surpassed  them  and  all  man- 
kind."1 In  searching  to  find  what  were  the  emotions  and  imaginations 
of  man,  Lamb  was  playing  his  part  in  the  romantic  movement,  "return 
to  nature."  Since  the  plays  of  Lamb's  period  had  degenerated  in 
vigor  of  passion  and  imagination  in  which  Lamb  delighted,  he  sought 
these  human  elements  of  a great  soul  in  the  old  dramas.  His 
Specimens  called  attention  to  the  excellent  features  of  these 
plays,  and  were  of  value  to  the  stage  in  awakening  not  only  a new 
interest  in  these  old  poets,  but  in  giving  new  inspiration  to  the 
dramatists  for  a truer  representation  of  life. 

The  plays  that  treated  of  human  life  and  manners  were 

chosen  rather  than  the  artificial  plays.  He  selected  "scenes  of 

passion,  sometimes  of  deepest  quality,  interesting  situations, 

serious  descriptions,  that  which  is  more  allied  to  poetry  than  to 

2 

wit,  and  to  tragic  rather  than  to  common  poetry." 

The  passions  chosen  are  various.  The  more  terrible  the 
scene  the  more  fascinated  is  the  critic.  The  fear  of  death  is 
represented  by  the  "growing  horrors  of  Faustus"  when  the  hours  and 
half  hours  "bring  him  nearer  to  the  enactment  of  his  dire  compact." 

He  points  out  the  skill  and  dignity  of  the  horrors  which  John 
Webster  presents  in  the  Duchess  of  Malf i and  enumerates  the  terrors 

^-"Characters  of  Dramatic  Writers  Contemporary  with  Shakespeare." 

2Ibid. 


. 


' 


• • 


34 


which  the  Duchess  passed  through  before  her  death  sentence.  He 
refers  to  the  wild,  and  terrible  scene  in  Ford’s  Broken  Heart  in 


which  Calantha  showed  more  fortitude  than  the  Spartan  lad  who  let 
the  beast  gnaw  out  his  bowels  without  a groan.  He  could  not  find 
comparisons  sublime  enough  for  this  grand  catastrophe  and  he  says, 
"It  almost  bears  us  in  imagination  to  Calvary  and  the  Cross." 
Another  heroic  character  that  he  greatly  admires  is  Fletcher's 
Ordella,  whom  he  pronounces  "a  piece  of  sainted  nature,"  because 
"she  offers  her  life  as  a sacrifice  that  the  king  of  France  may  not 
be  childless."  Yet  he  criticises  Fletcher  for  his  unnatural  and 
violent  situations.  Lamb  refers  to  a character  in  Decker's 
Honest  Whore  which  would  shock  the  audience  of  his  time,  but  he 
maintains  that  "where  Bellafont,  a reclaimed  harlot,  recounts  some 
of  the  miseries  of  her  profession,  a simple  picture  of  honor  and 
shame  contrasted  without  violence  and  expressed  without  immodesty 
is  worth  all  the  strong  lines  against  the  harlot's  profession." 

In  Decker's  Old  Fortunatus  he  finds  Orleans  to  be  a 
second  Romeo,  "only  less  poetical  and  a little  madder."  The  Merry 
Devil  of  Edmonton  he  says,  is  intended  to  make  the  reader  happy, 
and  nothing  is  finer,  more  gentleman-like  and  nobler  than  the  con- 
versation of  the  young  men. 

Lamb's  poetic  taste  was  gratified  by  the  dialogue  of 
these  old  masters.  He  refers  to  the  bold  allegory  of  Marston's 
Antonio  and  Mellida;  to  the  reality  and  life  in  the  dialogue  of 
Tourneur's  The  Revenger's  Tragedy.  It  passes  any  scenical  illusion 
he  ever  felt.  The  words  of  Vindici  and  Hippolito  to  their  mother 
are  "more  keen  and  dagger-like  than  those  which  Hamlet  speaks  to 
his  mother." 


1 


35 


He  is  delighted  with  the  poetical  fancy  api  elegance  of 
the  mind  of  Ben  Jonson  in  the  Poetaster  in  which  he  "has  revived 
the  whole  court  of  Augustus."  Lamb's  imagination  find3  play  in 
the  "torrent  of  images,"  which  overcomes  the  judgment.  "The 
assemblage  of  them  all  produces  a result  equal  to  the  grandest 
poetry."  He  fancies  the  grace  and  charm  with  which  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  mask  women  as  pages  to  follow  unfaithful  lovers. 

Throughout  the  Specimens  he  measures  characters,  scenes, 
poetry,  and  dialogue  with  those  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  Heywood 
is  a "sort  of  prose  Shakespeare";  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  were  but 
"an  inferior  sort  of  Shakespeare";  the  full  and  heightened  style 
of  the  descriptive  and  didactic  passages  of  Chapman  "approaches 
nearest  Shakespeare";  Marlowe's  Edward  II  is  compared  with 
Richard  II.  and  his  Jew  of  Malta  with  the  Merchant  of  Venice : 
but  his  master  does  not  raise  ideal  female  characters  higher  than 
Lord  Brooke's  Caelica  and  Camena;  and  Tourneur's  dialogue  is  more 
dagger  like  than  Hamlet's. 

But  the  comparison  of  Middleton's  witches  with  those  in 
Macbeth  is  perhaps  the  finest,  as  it  shows  Lamb's  poetic  imagina- 
tion and  keen  discrimination.  He  says  that  the  witches  of 
Shakespeare  "are  distinguished  from  the  witches  of  Middleton  by 
essential  differences.  These  are  creatures  to  whom  man  or  woman, 
plotting  dire  mischief,  might  resort  for  occasional  consultation. 
Those  originate  deeds  of  blood,  and  begin  bad  impulses  to  men.  From 
the  moment  that  their  eyes  first  meet  with  Macbeth's  he  is  spell- 
bound. That  meeting  sways  his  destiny.  He  can  never  break  the 
fascination.  These  witches  can  hurt  the  body,  those  have  power  over 
the  soul.  Hecate  in  Middleton  has  a son,  a low  buffoon;  the  hags  of 


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36 


Shakespeare  have  neither  child  of  their  ovm,  nor  seem  to  be 
descended  from  any  parent  ...  As  they  are  without  human  passions, 
so  they  seem  to  be  without  human  relations.  They  came  with  thunder 
and  lightning  and  vanish  to  airy  music  . . . Except  Hecate,  they 
have  no  names,  which  heightens  their  mysteriousness.  The  names  and 
some  of  the  properties,  which  the  other  author  has  given  his  hags 
excite  smiles.  The  Weird  Sisters  are  serious  things;  their 
presence  cannot  co-exist  with  mirth.  But,  in  a lesser  degree,  the 
witches  of  Middleton  are  fine  creations.  Their  power  too.  is  in 
some  measure  over  the  mind.  They  raise  jars,  jealousies,  strifes, 
like  a thick  scurf  over  life." 

Throughout  the  Specimens  Lamb  points  out  the  poetical 
excellencies,  giving  particular  stress  to  the  heroic  characters  of 
tragedy.  He  shows  most  interest  in  those  scenes  which  lay  bare  the 
human  soul.  The  scenes  of  greatest  horror  reach  the  greatest 
sublimity  which  recalls  Calvary.  He  responds  to  the  plays  in  a 
manner  similar  to  the  theater.  His  heart  throbs  in  sympathy.  At 
times  his  "ears  tingle,"  his  cheeks  flush"  and  his  "eyes  gush 
tears  of  delight." 

Ill 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  and  artistic  of  the  dramatic 
essays  is  "Tragedies  of  Shakespeare"  considered  with  reference  to 
their  fitness  for  the  stage.  Lamb  has  interpreted  the  greatness  of 
the  mind  and  soul  of  Shakespeare.  He  thinks  no  actor  can  portray 
objectively  the  wonderful  conception  of  Shakespeare's  imagination. 
Only  the  imagination  can  conceive  the  Othello,  Hamlet,  Lear,  and 


' 


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37 


Macbeth  of  Shakespeare,  since  they  are  representatives  not  of 
physical  action,  but  of  mind  and  soul  undergoing  great  passions. 

We  are  not  to  believe  that  Lamb  objected  to  the  acting  of 
Shakespeare's  plays,  since  he  expresses  so  much  pleasure  in  the 
theater.  What  was  his  purpose  then  in  writing  this  essay? 

He  seems  to  have  a threefold  purpose  in  mind,  which  he 
presents  in  a paradoxical  fashion.  First,  he  expresses  an  unfriend- 
ly feeling  toward  Garrick,  who,  in  the  eighteenth  century  had 
revived  an  interest  in  the  acting  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  This 
feeling  was  partly  due  to  an  epitaph  he  saw  in  the  Abbey,  which 
aroused  jealousy.  The  epitaph  contained  this  line:  "Shakespeare 
and  Garrick  like  twin  stars  shall  shine."  Lamb  never  had  sat  under 
the  spell  of  Garrick's  acting,  and  his  enmity  was  aroused  that  an 
actor  should  be  placed  on  a level  with  his  master.  Lamb  considered 
the  power  to  create  poetical  images  and  conceptions  far  surpassed 
the  power  to  recite  the  same  when  put  into  words,  and  there 
Shakespeare  in  nobility  of  mind  and  soul  was  far  superior  to  Garrick 
But  Lamb's  ire  was  aroused  even  more  by  the  marring  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  by  Tate  and  Cibber,  in  which  Garrick  connived  by  using  their 
acting  editions.  Lamb  says,  "I  am  almost  disposed  to  deny  Garrick 
the  merits  of  being  an  admirer  of  Shakespeare.  A true  lover  of  his 
excellencies  he  certainly  was  not,  for  would  any  true  lover  of  them 
have  admitted  into  hi3  matchless  scenes  such  ribald  trash  . . . 

I believe  it  impossible  that  he  could  have  had  a proper  reverence 
for  Shakespeare,  and  have  condescended  to  go  through  that  inter- 
polated scene  in  Richard  the  Third,  in  which  Richard  tries  to  break 
his  wife's  heart  by  telling  her  he  loves  another  woman  and  says. 


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38 


'If  she  survives  this  she  is  immortal.'  Yet  I doubt  not  that  he 
delivered  this  vulgar  stuff  with  as  much  anxiety  of  emphasis  as  any 
of  the  genuine  parts;  and  for  acting,  it  is  as  well  calculated  as 
any."  He  was  particularly  enraged  that  King  Lear  should  have  been 
so  marred  by  a happy  ending,  "as  if  at  his  years,  and  with  his 
experience,  anything  was  left  but  to  die!" 

Another  aim  in  this  essay  is  to  show  the  subjective  side 
of  the  tragical  characters.  "There  is  so  much  in  them  which  comes 
not  under  the  province  of  acting,  with  which  eye  and  tone  and 
gesture  have  nothing  to  do."  For  instance,  the  anger  of  a vulgar 
character  and  of  Othello  might  be  portrayed  by  expression  of 
countenance  and  action  which  were  very  similar,  while  the  motives 
were  very  dissimilar.  The  struggle  in  the  mind  of  Othello  which  is 
the  great  tragic  struggle  can  not  be  portrayed. 

Lamb  does  not  argue  that  Hamlet  should  not  be  acted,  but 
he  wishes  to  show  how  Hamlet  is  made  another  thing  by  being  acted. 
"Nine  parts  in  ten  of  what  Hamlet  does,  are  transactions  between 
himself  and  his  moral  sense,"  which  is  not  to  be  represented 
objectively.  Most  actors  in  their  efforts  to  show  Hamlet's  state 
of  mind  toward  his  mother  and  Ophelia  rant  in  a mad  way  which  quite 
destroys  the  princely  conception  of  Shakespeare's  Hamlet.  Again 
the  objective  representation  of  the  character  may  quite  destroy  the 
ideal  side  because  of  our  race  prejudices  and  customs.  The  audience 
shudders  when  the  black  Othello  loves  Desdemona.  It  is  repulsive. 
The  ncbility  of  his  mind  is  quite  forgotten.  The  same  is  true  in 
King  Lear . The  sight  of  a tottering  old  man  turned  out  in  the 
storm  has  nothing  in  it  but  what  is  painful  and  disgusting  . . . 

The  greatness  of  Lear  is  not  in  corporeal  dimensions,  but  in 


■ 

1 

. 


. 


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39 

intellectual.  It  is  his  mind  which  is  laid  bare.  . . What  has 
voice  or  eye  to  do  with  such  things?" 

If  some  of  the  princely  conceptions  of  Shakespeare's 
imagination,  which  belong  to  the  natural  world,  cannot  be  fully 
portrayed  on  the  stage,  how  much  more  does  the  acting  fall  short, 
in  an  effort  to  portray  creatures  of  the  unreal  world,  as  ghosts, 
spirits  and  fairies.  They  are  creatures  too  ethereal  for  material 
form,  and  their  proper  realm  is  in  the  imagination  only.  Thus 
Lamb  aims  to  show  that  the  characters  of  Shakespeare  have  a sub- 
jective side  which  only  the  imagination  can  conceive,  and  it  is 
this  great  intelligence  and  spirituality  of  his  characters  which 
make  his  plays  superior. 

As  a third  aim  in  his  essay  he  shows  the  lack  of  intellect 
in  the  audience.  He  says,  "The  more  coarse  and  palpable  the  passion 
is,  the  more  hold  upon  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  spectators  the  per- 
former obviously  possesses."  He  further  states  that  they  do  not 
see  the  difference  between  the  characters  of  George  Barnwell  who 
was  a murderer  and  Othello.  "They  say  that  both  are  natural,  but 
the  odds  are  that  ninety-nine  out  of  a hundred  would  willingly 
behold  the  same  catastrophe  happen  to  both  heroes  and  have  thought 
the  rope  more  due  to  Othello  than  Barnwell.  For  the  texture  of 
Othello's  mind  . . . its  heroic  confidences  and  its  human  mis- 
givings, its  agonies  of  hate  springing  from  the  depths  of  love, 
they  see  no  more  than  the  spectators  at  a cheaper  rate,  who  pay 
their  pennies  apiece,  to  look  through  the  man's  telescope  in 


Leicester  Fields,  see  into  the  inward  plot  and  topography  of  the 
moon."  He  shows  that  the  audience  has  no  conception  of  the  great- 
ness of  a heroic  and  tragic  character.  The  essay,  then,  has 


: 


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i 


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40 


expressed  Lamb's  attitude  toward  Garrick;  has  shown  the  subjective 
side  of  Shakespeare's  tragical  character;  and  has  revealed  the  lack 
of  dramatic  sense  of  the  spectators;  but  it  has  not  argued  that 
Shakespeare's  plays  should  not  be  acted. 

IV 

Perhaps  the  essay  on  the  "Artificial  Comedy  of  the  Last 
Century"  aroused  more  adverse  criticism  of  Lamb  than  any  other  of 
his  productions.  This  essay  is  another  illustration  of  the 
influence  of  illusion  upon  his  criticism.  Lamb  was  severely 
criticised  for  upholding  the  plays  of  Congreve  and  Wycherley.  This 
essay  does  not  indicate  a moral  degeneration  of  the  critic,  for  his 
principle  of  illusion  puts  the  characters  of  these  plays  in  a dif- 
ferent world;  they  were  not  of  "Christendom"  but  of  "the  land  of 
cuckoldry."  They  were  not  to  be  judged  by  the  law  courts  of  real 
people.  From  the  standpoint  of  poetical  justice,  Lamb  argues,  that 
no  good  person  suffers  on  the  stage,  because  the  author  "has  spread 
a privation  of  moral  light  over  his  creation."  He  says  that  if 
translated  into  real  life  they  are  "profligates  and  strumpets"  and 
would  reduce  things  to  "chaos."  However  Lamb  seems  to  forget  that 
they  did  represent  the  life  of  the  Restoration  period,  and  as  such 
were  real  people. 

But  this  essay  is  another  illustration  of  Lamb's  para- 
doxical and  whimsical  style  of  writing.  Lamb's  romantic  nature 
rebelled  against  the  restraint  of  the  audience  which  demanded  morals 
in  a play.  They  were  satisfied  with  puerile  plays,  the  repent-anl- 
forgive  type  where  the  moral  point  was  everything.  He  was  cross  at 


. 


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41 

the  audience  for  demanding  realistic  life  rather  than  fictitious 
personages.  In  the  School  for  Scandal  they  desired  Joseph  Surface 
to  be  a real  villain,  while  Lamb  upheld  Jack  Palmer's  acting,  a 
sort  of  hypocritical  assumption  of  hypocrisy.  "Jack  Palmer  was 
twice  an  actor  in  this  exquisite  part."  He  was  playing  to  the 
audience  all  the  while  he  was  playing  upon  Sir  Peter  and  his  lady. 

This  essay  shows  Lamb's  tendency  to  be  perverse  at  times. 
He  enjoys  taking  the  contrary  side  from  that  of  general  opinion. 

As  Hazlitt  says  of  the  Occult  school,  "They  discern  no  beauties 
but  that  are  concealed  from  superficial  eyes,  and  overlook  all  that 
are  obvious  to  the  vulgar  part  of  mankind.  By  happy  alchemy  of  mind 
they  convert  dross  into  gold."1  Lamb  seems  to  be  hunting  for  good 
in  an  evil  thing.  He  has  come  under  the  influence  of  the  senti- 
mental school  which  finds  good  in  all  humanity.  He  comes  to  the 
aid  of  the  censured  wr iters,  in  the  spirit  of  his  father  when  he 
maintained  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  regardless  of  the  number  of 
his  opponents.  He  does  all  this  in  his  whimsical  way,  basing  his 
argument  on  his  principle  of  illusion. 

Perhaps  Lamb  is  not  a great  critic  in  the  broadest  sense 

of  the  term,  but  he  has  shown  great  genius  and  has  won  favor  with 

critics.  Saintsbury  says,  "It  may  be  doubted  whether  such  a critic 

as  Lamb  though  infinitely  delightful  is  exactly  'great'  because  of 

2 

the  singular  gaps  and  arbitrariness  of  his  likes  and  dislikes." 

^Hazlitt,  Table  Talk,  p.225. 

~°History  of  Criticism . Vol.  1,  p.496. 


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42 

Hazlitt  speaks  of  the  Occult  school  "whose  members  have  a natural 
proneness  to  singularity,  a love  of  what  is  odd.  They  like  a mono- 
poly of  taste  and  are  shocked  at  the  prostitution  of  intellect  in 
popular  productions.  They  would  tolerate  the  sweetness  of  an 
actress’s  voice  only  for  the  ugliness  of  her  face.  Nothing  goes  down 
with  them  but  what  is  caviare  to  the  public  . . . Yet  they  smack  of 
genius  and  would  be  worth  any  money  were  it  only  for  the  rarity  of 
the  thing."1  Brander  Matthews  says,  "It  is  difficult  for  any  one  who 
has  had  to  read  much  of  the  writings  of  other  dramatic  critics  to 

speak  of  Lamb's  essays  on  theatrical  subjects  without  falling  into 

o 

extravagance  of  eulogy."  Swinburne  states,  "When  he  took  on  him  to 
grapple  in  spirit  with  Shakespeare  and  his  followers,  he  shewed  him- 
self the  strongest  as  well  as  the  finest  critic  that  ever  was  found 
worthy  to  comment  on  the  most  masculine  or  leonine  school  of  poets 
in  all  the  range  of  English  literature."'-'  Ainger  says,  "He  was  too 
fond  of  paradox,  too  much  at  the  mercy  of  his  emotions,  or  the  mood 
of  the  hour  to  be  a safe  guide  always.  But  where  no  disturbing 
forces  interfered,  he  exercised  a faculty  almost  unique  in  the 
history  of  criticism."4  It  is  seen  that  the  critics  agree  that  Lamb 
has  genius  in  dramatic  criticism,  but  that  he  is  capricious  in 
style,  and  too  much  influenced  by  his  likes  and  dislikes. 

Lamb's  genius  of  criticism  is  due  not  so  much  to  its 
extent  as  to  its  forcefulness,  yet  his  criticisms  on  acting  make  a 
valuable  handbook  for  the  actor,  and  his  interpretations  illuminate 

iHazlitt,  Table  Talk , p.325. 

‘'Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb . p.13. 

^Nineteenth  Century,  January  1885. 

Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters.  Vol.  5,  p. 185. 


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43 

the  text  for  the  student,  while  his  Specimens  form  a guide  for  the 


dramatist . 

The  delightful  note  of  his  criticism  is  due  to  his  sense 
of  humor,  and  this  together  with  his  vivid  imagination  and  power  of 
concrete  expression  make  his  writing  forceful,  as  he  flashes  upon  our 
imagination  the  wonderful  scenes  of  his  beloved  poets.  He  spent  so 
many  hours  with  these  old  Elizabethan  dramatists, that  the  scenes  did 
not  merely  pass  before  his  mind  but  they  electrified  his  innermost 
life.  These  scenes  were  the  "old  familiar  faces"  that  he  loved.  What 
he  loved  stirred  his  imagination,  and  in  turn, his  imagination  en- 
nobled his  love;  therefore  he  elevates  the  scene  according  to  the 
thermometer  of  his  emotions.  Sometimes  he  exaggerates  the  dramatic 
greatness  of  the  character  or  scene. 

His  "will-worship"  exaggerates,  but  his  perverse  ways  some- 
times bias  his  judgment  against  excellent  dramatic  work.  He  says, 
"Goethe's  Faust  is  inferior  to  Marlowe's  in  the  chief  motive  of  the 
plot  and  lets  the  criticism  rest  there.""  As  a critic  his  paradoxical 
style  is  unique,  and  it  makes  one  seek  beneath  the  surface  for  the 
real  meaning. 

His  criticisms  indicate  his  romantic  nature.  His  anti- 
quarian tendency  is  shown  in  his  love  for  old  literature;  and  his 
"return  to  nature1' may  be  noted  in  his  seeking  to  learn  the  emotion 
of  man  when  in  trying  situations;  his  wonderful  imagination  and 
fancy  is  seen  in  his  attitude  toward  illusion  on  the  stage;  and  his 
emotion  is  portrayed  by  his  response  to  dramatic  scenes.  As  an 
impressionist,  he  is  a romantic  critic;  he  dares  to  express  what 
he  likes  with  no  other  authority  than  his  own  sensibility. 


■Ainger,  English  Men  of  Letters.  Vol.  5,  p.184. 


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CHAPTER  THREE 


LAMB  AS  A DRAMATIST 


The  period  in  which  a dramatist  lives  has  much  to  do  with 
his  success.  We  find  in  Lamb's  time  that  the  drama  was  at  low  ebb, 
having  been  on  the  decline  since  the  Elizabethan  period.  During  the 
reign  of  the  Puritans  the  stage  had  been  tabooed,  but  after  the  ban 
was  lifted  in  the  Restoration  period,  the  artificial  comedy,  which 
reflected  the  lowest  tide  of  English  morality,  was  produced.  The 
artificial  comedy  was  followed  by  the  sentimental  drama  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  It  seemed  that  the  public  desired  either  a love 
story  like  Richardson's  Pamela  in  the  form  of  an  opera,  presenting 
idealized  lovers  and  humorous  characters  of  rustic  simplicity,  or,  a 
comedy  of  social  and  domestic  life  which  had  a sentimental  plot  with 
a good  deal  of  action  and  some  mystery,  and  one  prominent  comic 
figure . ^ 

Lamb's  natural  poetical  ability  and  his  love  for  the 
theater  stimulated  his  ambition  to  become  a dramatist,  since  he 
could  not  be  an  actor.  Shortly  after  the  tragedy  in  his  family  he 
began  writing  his  first  play  called  Pride 1 s Cure , but  later  changed 
to  John  Woodvil.  After  submitting  it  to  Coleridge  and  Southey,  who 
tried  to  dissuade  him  from  publishing  it,  he  sent  the  play  to  John 
Kemble,  who  offered  to  put  it  in  the  hands  of  the  proprietor  of 
Drury  Lane  Theater.  After  waiting  a year  for  a reply,  he  wrote  to 

^Bernbaum,  Drama  of  Sensibility,  p.223. 


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’ 


45 

Kemble  to  know  the  result.  Lamb  in  a letter  to  Manning  writes, 

"At  last  I have  written  to  Kemble  to  know  the  event  of  my  play  which 
was  presented  last  Christmas.  As  I suspected  came  an  answer  back 
that  the  copy  was  lost,  and  could  not  be  found,  no  hint  that  anybody 
had  to  this  day  looked  into  it,  with  a courteous  request  of  another 
copy  (if  I had  one  by  me)  and  a promise  of  a definitive  answer  in  a 
week.  I could  not  resist  so  facile  and  moderate  a demand,  so 
scribbled  out  another,  omitting  sundry  things  ...  I sent  it  last 
night,  and  am  in  weekly  expectation  of  the  tolling  bell  and  death 
warrant."1  The  play  was  soon  returned  as  unsuitable  for  the  theater. 
In  1802  Lamb  printed  the  play  at  his  own  expense  of  £.25. 

I 

John  Woodvil  is  a tragedy  in  five  acts,  written  in  the 
Shakespearian  style  of  alternate  prose  and  blank  verse.  The  setting 
is  in  the  period  immediately  after  the  Restoration,  when  puritanical 
restraint  being  removed,  society  became  drunk  and  English  morality 
was  at  its  lowest  ebb. 

The  hero  of  the  play  is  the  elder  son  of  a puritan.  Sir 
Walter  Woodvil,  who  has  been  so  deeply  engaged  in  the  revolution 
against  the  crown  that  he  has  not  been  pardoned  under  the  Oblivion 
Act.  Sir  Walter  and  his  younger  son  Simon  disguised  as  Frenchmen 
are  living  in  the  Forest  of  Sherwood.  The  elder  son  John  has  re- 
mained a royalist,  not  because  of  principle,  since  he  was  indifferent 
alike  to  Cromwell  and  Charles  I,  but  because  he  is  ambitious  to 

^Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb , Letters.  Chap.  1,  p.321. 


46 

become  great  in  political  life.  He  remains  in  Woodvil  Hall 
surrounded  by  a set  of  cavalier  friends  and  hangers-on  who  spend 
their  time  drinking  toasts  to  the  King,  in  merrymaking,  and  in  feed- 
ing on  the  estate  like  so  many  parasites.  Some  of  the  company 
insult  Margaret,  a ward  of  Sir  Walter,  and  with  womanly  indignation 
against  such  procedure  in  Woodvil  Hall,  and  with  bitter  feelings 
toward  John  who  has  neglected  her,  she  disguises  herself  as  a boy 
and  joins  Sir  Walter  and  Simon  in  the  Forest  of  Sherwood.  After  her 
departure  John,  who  has  been  her  lover  since  boyhood,  makes  a show 
of  grief  for  the  moment.  On  the  King's  birthday  he  and  his  comrades 
are  celebrating  the  event  in  excessive  drinking.  John  under  the 
influence  of  wine  discloses  to  Lovell,  a false  friend,  the  hiding 
place  of  his  father.  Lovell  and  Gray,  another  false  friend,  proceed 
at  once  to  Sherwood  Forest  to  arrest  Sir  7/alter  as  a traitor. 
Arriving  at  the  hiding  place  they  make  known  their  errand.  Simon 
draws  his  sword,  but  the  father  is  so  overcome  by  grief  because  of 
his  son's  betrayal,  that  he  dies.  After  his  burial  Simon  travels, 
but  Margaret  returns  to  Woodvil  Hall  to  comfort  John,  who  has  dis- 
missed his  rioting  companions  and  spends  his  time  in  grieving  over 
his  mistake.  Margaret  consoles  him;  their  love  is  renewed;  and 
after  some  time  in  prayer,  he  feels  that  his  sin  is  expiated. 

When  the  play  was  published,  it  was  ridiculed.  The  maga- 
zines were  not  sparing  in  their  criticisms.  The  Edinburgh  Review 
made  heavy  fun  of  it,  and  The  Annual  Review  turned  it  to  ridicule, 
ending  a contemptuous  criticism  with,  "What  precious  nonsense.'  but 
this  is  a specimen  of  that  canting,  whining  style,  or  rather  slang 
of  poetry,  which  is  now-a-days  offered  to  us  as  the  very  essence  of 


. 


47 


simplicity  and  pathos !"1  Blackwood’s  Magazine  gave  the  following 
criticism:  "It  is  a tame  imitation  of  the  manner  of  the  old 

dramatists  — of  their  manner  when  engaged  in  their  subordinate 
and  preparatory  scenes.  For  there  is  an  attempt  at  tragic  passion. 

We  read  the  piece  asking  ourselves  when  the  play  is  to  begin,  and 

2 

while  still  asking  the  question  find  ourselves  at  the  conclusion." 
Wordsworth  however  wrote,  "I  like  your  play  marvelously,  having  no 
objection  to  it  but  one  ...  I mean  a little  degradation  of 
character  for  a more  dramatic  turn  of  the  plot."*-  Hazlitt  says, 
"There  is  much  that  is  exquisite  both  in  sentiment  and  expression."4 
De  Quine ey  said,  "I  had  felt  and  acknowledged  a delicacy  and  tender- 
ness in  the  situation  as  well  as  the  sentiments,  but  disfigured  as 

4 

I thought  by  quaint,  grotesque,  and  mimetic  phraseology."  These 

criticisms  call  attention  to  the  pathos  and  poetical  beauty  of  the 

dialogue,  and  its  defects  of  vulgarity  and  "antiquity." 

In  answer  to  Southey's  criticism,  and  objection  to  printing 

the  play,  Lamb  writes,  "You  object  to  my  pauses  being  at  the  end  of 

my  lines.  I do  not  know  any  great  difficulty  I should  find  in 

diversifying  or  changing  my  blank  verse;  but  I go  upon  the  model  of 

Shakespeare  in  my  play,  and  endeavor  after  a colloquial  ease  and 

spirit,  something  like  him  ...  I love  to  anticipate  charges  of 

unoriginality;  the  first  line  is  almost  Shakespeare’s: 

"To  have  my  love  to  bed  and  to  rise" 

Midsummer  Night 1 s Dream 


^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb . Vol.  1,  p.226. 

^Living  Age , September  15,  1849. 

^William  C.  Hazlitt,  "Eliana,"  Atlantic  Monthly,  February  1906. 
^Allibone,  Dictionary  of  Authors.  Vol.  1,  p.1049. 

Ainger,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  Letters,  Vol.  1,  p.159. 


' 


48 


I think  there  is  a sweetness  in  the  versification  not  unlike  some 
rhymes  in  that  exquisite  play."  In  another  letter  to  Southey  he 
says,  "My  tragedy  will  be  a medley  (as  I intend  it  to  be  a medley) 
of  laughter  and  tears,  prose  and  verse,  and  in  some  places  rhyme, 
songs,  wit,  pathos,  humour,  and,  if  possible,  sublimity;  at  least 
it  is  not  a fault  in  my  intention  if  it  does  not  comprehend  most 
of  these  discordant  atoms.  Heaven  send  they  dance  not  the  'Dance 
of  Death'!" 

After  reading  John  Woodvil  the  first  time,  I felt  dis- 
appointed, as  I was  expecting  to  find  an  illustration  of  Lamb's 
dramatic  ideas,  as  set  forth  in  the  Specimens . I,  too,  found  myself 
at  the  close  of  the  play  and  discovered  no  dramatic  action,  or  vigor 
of  passion  that  Lamb  discussed  in  his  criticisms.  Instead,  he 
seemed  to  be  imitating  the  very  thing  he  condemned  in  the  modern 
repent-and-forgive  play. 

The  construction  and  characterization  are  weak.  (Only 
once  does  Lamb  refer  to  the  construction  of  the  drama  in  his 
Specimens . There  is  no  motive  for  action,  the  hero  becomes 
intoxicated,  and  without  any  temptation  whatever,  discloses  the 
hiding  place  of  his  father.  Had  he  been  tempted  by  either  love  or 
political  ambition  and  wavered  between  one  of  them  and  his  filial 
duty,  we  should  have  had  dramatic  action.  There  is  no  suspense,  no 
rise  or  fall  of  action,  and  the  incidents  are  not  interwoven.  We 
do  not  know  when  the  curtain  falls,  upon  what  scene  it  will  rise. 

In  the  fourth  act  John  gives  a few  lines  in  soliloquy;  then  we  are 


•^The  Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets, 


"Fletcher . " 


If 


■ 


■ 


' 


49 

hurried  to  Sherwood  to  see  the  arrest  of  Sir  Walter;  then  to 
another  part  of  the  forest  to  hear  what  Margaret  has  to  say;  then 
hack  to  Woodvil  Hall  again.  The  play  is  more  like  a closet  drama, 
than  one  for  the  stage. 

John  Woodvil  is  "a  medley,"  especially  in  the  dialogue. 

It  is  shot  through  and  through  with  Shakespearian  phrases,  so  that 
in  reading,  one  is  constantly  diverted  from  the  thread  of  the  story 
by  locating  these  phrases  in  their  native  place.  Let  us  compare 
some  of  these  borrowed  phrases  in  John  Woodvil  with  the  speeches  in 
Shakespeare's  plays.  Compare  a commendation  in  this  play  with  one 
in  The  Merchant  of  Venice . 

"MARTIN:  Well  spoken,  Daniel!  0 rare  Daniel! 

— his  oaths  and  his  politics!  excellent!"'1 

"SHYLOCK:  A Daniel  come  to  judgment!  Yea,  a Daniel! 

• • • ♦ • 

2 

0 noble  judge!  0 excellent  young  man!" 

John's  speech  on  confidence  is  parallel  with  Hamlet's  speech  on  the 
reason  of  man. 

"JOHN:  How  fine  and  noble  a thing  is  confidence! 

How  reasonable  too,  and  almost  godlike!"  ^ 

"HAMLET:  What  a piece  of  work  is  man!  How  noble 
in  reason!  ...  In  action  how  like 
an  angel!  In  apprehension  how  like  a god!" 

The  expression  "Men  die  but  once"  recalls  Julius  Caesar's  words, 
"The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once,"^  and  "I  would  be 

1 

oAct  1. 

^The  Merchant  of  Venice , Act  4,  sc.  1. 

Act  3. 

4 

_Hamlet , Act  3,  sc.  2. 

"’Act  2,  sc.  2. 


. 

i 


■ 


* 


. . 


■ 

■ 


. 


' 


50 

great"  is  probably  suggested  by  Lady  Macbeth's  soliloquy  in  which 
she  says,  "Thou  wouldst  be  great."1 

There  are  other  imitations  of  Shakespeare  than  these 
phrases.  Sometimes  whole  speeches  are  modelled  on  Shakespeare's. 
There  is  a resemblance  of  the  complaints  of  Margaret  to  those  of 
Portia  in  Julius  Caesar . Margaret  complains  of  John's  altered 
manner,  his  neglect,  and  refers  to  his  former  vows  of  love,  and  to 
her  own  pride.  Both  speeches  are  in  the  same  mood,  and  the  verse 
is  similar.  Another  example  of  this  imitation  is  the  speech  of 
Sanford,  scolding  and  threatening  the  servants  of  V/oodvil  Hall, 
which  is  parallel  with  Malvolio's  reprimanding  the  carousal  of  Sir 
Toby  and  Aguecheek.  In  loyalty  and  dignity  the  stewards  resemble 
each  other,  yet  the  content  and  verse  form  of  Sanford's  speech 
recalls,  also,  Marullus'  reprimand"  to  the  Commoners. 

The  greatest  worth  of  the  play  lies  in  the  isolated 
passages  which  are  almost  Shakespearean  in  poetic  beauty.  Godwin 
mistook  the  following  passage  for  one  of  the  beauties  of  the  Old 
Dramatists  and  asked  Lamb  to  help  him  locate  the  author. 

"To  see  the  sun  to  bed  and  to  rise, 

Like  some  hot  amorist  with  glowing  eyes. 

Bursting  the  lazy  bands  of  sleep  that  bound  him, 

With  all  his  fires  and  travelling  glories  round  him: 
Sometimes  the  moon  on  soft  night  clouds  to  rest, 

Like  beauty  nestling  in  a young  man's  breast. 

And  all  the  winking  stars,  her  handmaids  keep^ 

Admiring  silence,  while  those  lovers  sleep:"  ° 

But  much  of  his  verse  form  is  harsh  and  jangling  as, 


Macbeth.  Act  1,  sc.  1. 

Julius  Caesar , Act  1,  sc.  1. 
Act  3. 


■ 


. 

'•  ■ 


51 


"This  Lovel  here's  of  a tough  honesty, 

Would  put  the  rack  to  the  proof.  He  is  not  of  that  sort 
Which  haunt  my  house,  snorting  the  liquors, 

And,  when  their  wisdoms  are  afloat  with  wine, 

Spend  vows  as  fast  as  vapours,  which  go  off, 

Even  with  the  fumes,  their  fathers. "1 

The  following  Shakespearian  devices  may  be  noted:  the 

play  opens  with  music  and  a comment  upon  it  by  the  first  speaker  as 
in  Twelfth  Night ; one  scene  opens  with  the  reading  of  a letter, 
followed  by  a comment  on  the  writer  which  has  a parallel  in  Macbeth: 
the  simple  life  enjoyed  by  Sir  Walter  in  the  Forest  of  Sherwood 
resembles  the  life  of  the  Duke  in  the  Forest  of  Arden  in  Aa  You 
Like  It : and  Margaret's  disguising  as  a boy  and  fleeing  to 
Sherwood  is  an  imitation  of  the  adventure  of  Rosalind  in  the  same 
play. 

Lamb  shows  the  influence  not  only  of  Shakespeare  but  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  as  well.2  Lamb  speaks  of  them  as  his  "first 
love"  and  remarks,  "From  what  I was  so  freshly  conversant  in,  what 

p 

wonder  if  ray  language  took  a tinge."  A resemblance  to  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  may  be  noted  in  the  vulgar  dialogue  and  drunkenness  of 
the  characters.  In  Beaumont's  The  Scornful  Lady,  the  younger 
Loveless  in  confederation  with  his  boon  companions  squanders  his 
elder  brother's  estate  while  he  is  away,  and  in  The  Coxcomb 
Ricardo's  shame  for  his  drunken  mistake  when  he  neglected  his  lady- 
love  is  akin  to  John's  remorse  for  neglecting  Margaret  and  betraying 
his  father. 

Lamb  is  not  only  influenced  by  the  old  dramatists  but  he 

lAct  3. 

^Dircks,  Plays  and  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb . p.  X. 


. , 


■ 


shows  the  marks  of  his  own  age . His  play  is  romantic  after  the 
fashion  not  of  the  Old  Dramatists  but  of  the  German  melodramas. 

"It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  the  influence  of  Kotzebue;  the  piece 
belongs  clearly  to  the  time  when  plays  of  The  Stranger  type  found 
appreciative  audiences . " ^ 

Let  us  next  note  the  romantic  characteristics  of  John 
Woodvil . The  play  lacks  the  impersonal  style  of  Shakespeare  because 
Lamb  is  subjective  and  writes  himself  in  his  plays.  One  cannot  read 
the  play  without  being  reminded  of  the  author  again  and  again.  He 
frequently  uses  his  coined  epithets  as  "not -to -be -endured  tribute" 
and  "Resist-the-devil-and-he-will-f lee-from-thee  Pureman."  The 

i 

following  speech  recalls  Lamb's  love  for  art,  "You  shall  go  with  me 

3 

into  the  gallery  where  I will  show  you  the  Vandyke  I have  purchased." 
Again  John’s  hospitality  toward  his  friends,  and  the  effect  of  wine 
on  his  imagination  and  speech  remind  one  of  Lamb.  Margaret's 
sympathy  for  John,  because  in  a state  of  intoxication  he  betrayed 
his  father,  recalls  Charles  Lamb's  sympathy  for  his  sister.  John's 
love  of  emotion  is  akin  to  that  of  the  author. 

A second  dramatic  feature  is  the  strange  combination 
resulting  from  an  imitation  of  an  Elizabethan  drama  set  in  the 
period  of  the  Restoration.  Other  features  are  the  expression  of 
the  love  of  nature  and  simple  life  in  the  Forest  of  Sherwood,  and 
the  sentimental  feeling  for  animals,  Simon  expresses  his  love  for, 

"All  things  that  live, 

From  the  crooked  worm  to  man ' s_ imperial  form 
And  God-resembling  likeness." 


xDi  rcks,  Plays  and  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb, Introduction, 
p.  XI . ,, 

2Act  1.  ^Act  2. 


S 


' 


. 


53 

The  hero  himself  is  a romanticist.  He  is  under  no 
restraint  in  his  epicurean  habits.  He  is  given  to  levity,  wine, 
and  caprice  and  " spends  too  much  time  in  riotous  living,  graceless 
society,  and  mirth  unpalatable,"  yet  he  has  the  confidence  of  his 
father  and  brother  in  his  "honor  and  fidelity."  He  has  excessive 
pride  and  ambition  to  be  great,  if  we  judge  from  his  own  remarks. 

He  possesses  artistic  temperament  and  values  highly,  the  imagination 
of  a poet.  It  is  "an  internal  wine,  richer  than  Lippara  or  Canaries 
yet  uncrushed  from  any  grapes  of  earth,  unpressed  in  mortal  wine 
presses.  . . It  is  denominated  indifferently  wit,  conceit,  inven- 
tion, inspiration;  but  its  most  royal  and  comprehensive  name  is 
fancy."-1  He  enjoys  emotion  and  seeks  it  in  excessive  drinking,  for 
he  exclaims  to  his  companions,  "more  mirth  I beseech  you,  gentlemen, 

. . . every  man  must  commit  his  twenty  bumpers  first.  We  are  not 
yet  well  roused  . . . Another  round,  and  then  let  every  man  devise 
what  trick  he  can  in  his  fancy,  for  better  manifesting  our  loyalty 
this  day."  Then  occurs  the  following  conversation  and  action. 

"THIRD  GENTLEMAN:  Who  shall  pledge  me  in  a pint  bumper, 

while  we  drink  the  king’s  health  upon 
our  knees? 

LOVEL:  Why  on  our  knees,  cavalier? 

JOHN:  (smiling)  For  more  devotion,  to  be  sure. 

Sirrah,  fetch  the  gilt  goblets. 

(They  drink  the  king's  health  kneeling.) 

LOVEL:  (aside)  Vanity  and  gay  thoughts  of  wine  do  meet 

in  him,  and^engender  madness. 

(While  the  rest  are  engaged  in  a wild  kind  of  talk, 

John  advances  to  the  front  of  the  stage  and  soliloguizes . ) 

^Act  3. 


• ‘ 


54 


JOHN:  My  spirits  turn  to  fire,  they  mount  so  fast 

My  joys  are  turbulent,  my  hopes  show  like  fruition. 
These  high  and  gusty  relishes  of  life,  sure. 

Have  no  allayings  of  mortality  in  them. 

I am  too  hot  now  and  o’er  capable, 

For  the  tedious  processes, and  creeping  wisdom, 

Of  human  acts,  and  enterprises  of  a man. 

I want  some  seasonings  of  adversity. 

Some  strokes  of  the  old  mortifier,  calamity, 

To  take  these  swellings  down, divines  call  vanity.”1 


Woodvil  is  romantic  in  his  enjoyment  of  grief.  It  does 
not  possess  him  so  much,  as  he  entertains  and  cherishes  it.  His 
mind  is  turned  inward  witnessing  his  own  emotions  and  he  discusses 
them  as  he  handles  his  mourning. 


"How  beautiful 

And  comely  do  these  mourning  garments  show! 

Sure  grief  hath  set  his  sacred  impress  here, 

To  claim  the  worlds  respect!  they  note  so  feelingly 
By  outward  types  the  serious  man  within. 

Alas!  What  part  or  portion  can  I claim 
In  all  the  decencies  of  virtuous  sorrow, 

Which  other  mourners  use? "2 


In  the  following  quotation  we  see  not  so  much  a man  grieving  over 
his  mistakes,  as  analyzing  his  own  condition  and  pitying  himself: 


"I  have  no  part  in  any  good  man's  love, 

In  all  earth's  pleasures  have  I none, 

I fade  and  wither  in  my  own  esteem, 

This  earth  holds  not  alive  so  poor  a thing  as  I am."'5 


Again  we  find  the  romantic  hero  indulging  in  a flood  of  tears. 


"And  then  I at  my  own  presumption  smiled, 

And  then  I wept  that  I should  smile  at  all. 
Having  such  cause  of  grief!  I wept  outright, 
Tears  like  a river,  flooded  all  my  face."^ 


Uct  3.  ?Ihid. 

sAct  5.  4Ibid. 


55 


His  freedom  from  restraint,  his  subjective  mind,  his  love  of  the 
imagination  and  emotions  are  the  chief  romantic  characteristics  of 
the  hero. 

Lamb's  play  failed  because  it  was  "a  medley.”  He 
gathered  together  materials  but  he  could  not  properly  order  them 
in  the  plot  of  a drama.  He  could  not  link  incident  with  incident 
to  create  surprise.  He  could  not  motivate  his  play  to  produce 
dramatic  action,  nor  delineate  character. 

The  play  is  ”a  medley”  in  that  it  shows  the  influence  of 
the  period  in  its  melodramatic  tone;  the  influence  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  in  the  drunken  scenes;  and  the  influence  of  the  style  of 
Shakespeare.  It  is  a weak  imitation  of  Shakespeare  in  form  which 
is  prose  and  blank  verse;  a part  of  the  verse,  however,  is  hardly 
different  in  matter  and  style  from  prose.  He  has  borrowed  many 
phrases,  and  imitated  the  dialogue,  characters,  and  scenes.  Lamb 
has  given  his  attention  to  the  accessories  which  are  valuable  in 
a drama,  but  he  has  failed  to  imitate  the  most  essential  parts, 
delineation  of  character  and  plot. 

II 

Lamb's  first  failure  did  not  destroy  all  hope  for  success 
as  a dramatist.  His  second  attempt  was  a farce  entitled  Mr . H„ 
consisting  of  two  acts  and  a prologue.  Lamb  spent  about  six 
months  in  its  composition,  as  he  only  wrote  when  in  the  mood.  The 
play  was  submitted  to  Wroughton,  manager  of  Drury  Lane,  in 
February  1806.  On  June  9,  Lamb  wrote  begging  to  know  if  his  piece 
had  any  chance  so  that  he  might  make  alterations.  He  received  a 


- 

1 


. 

' 


. 

' ■ 

. 


. 


56 


reply  that  it  had  been  accepted  and  would  be  sent  for  alterations 
in  a few  days.  Lamb  was  jubilant.  He  wrote  to  Wordsworth 
expressing  a childish  joy  over  his  success.  He  wrote  to  Manning, 
"The  rehearsals  have  gone  on  privately,  lest  by  many  folks  knowing 
it,  the  story  should  come  out,  which  would  infallibly  damn  it  . . . 

I had  no  idea  it  was  so  forward.  I have  had  no  trouble,  attending 
no  reading  or  rehearsal.  What  a contrast  to  the  usual  parade  of 
authors!  . . . The  title  is  Mr.  H no  more.  A great  H,  sprawling 
over  the  playbill  and  attracting  eyes  at  every  corner."  The  plot 
is  related  by  Lamb  in  the  same  letter.  "The  story  is  a coxcomb 
appearing  at  Eath,  vastly  rich  — all  the  ladies  dying  for  him  — 
all  bursting  to  know  who  he  is;  but  he  goes  on  by  no  other  name 
than  Mr.  H — a curiosity  like  that  of  the  dames  of  Strasburg 
about  the  man  with  the  great  nose.  But  I won't  tell  you  more  about 
it.  Yes,  I will;  but  I can't  give  you  an  idea  of  how  I have  done  it. 
I'll  just  tell  you  that  after  much  vehement  admiration,  when  his 
true  name  come3  out,  'Hogsflesh'  all  the  women  shun  him,  and  not 
one  can  be  found  to  change  their  name  for  him."1  The  play  however 
does  not  end  so  disastrously  for  the  hero,  as  he  receives  permission 
from  the  king  to  change  his  name  from  Hogsflesh  to  Bacon.  With  this 
new  appellation  he  receives  the  promise  of  Melisanda,  a rich  young 
heiress,  to  wed  him. 

The  play  was  acted  December  10,  1806,  at  Drury  Lane 
Theater,  Mr.  Elliston  taking  the  title  role.  The  house  was  crowded 
to  the  ceiling,  many  friends  of  the  author  being  present.  There  was 
great  expectation,  for  Lamb's  wit  was  not  unknown.  The  audience 

^Ainger,  The  Letters  of  Charles  Lamb.  Vol.  1,  p.140. 


s i 


■ 


■ 

* . 


■ 


57 


waited  impatiently  to  the  close  of  the  long  opera,  which  preceded 
Mr . H.  At  last  Mr.  Elliston  entered  and  gave  the  prologue,  which 
was  greatly  applauded,  even  Lamb  himself  entering  in  the  applause. 
The  substance  of  the  prologue  concerned  the  various  uses  of 
initials  instead  of  names.  The  first  part  of  the  play  was  well 
received,  but  on  the  disclosure  of  the  name,  the  audience  was  dis- 
pleased and  hissed.  The  farce  went  on  amid  shouts  of  "hear.'  hear!" 
and  "off!  off!"  Lamb  himself,  says  Crabb  Robinson, xwho  was  in  the 
pit  with  him  and  Mary,  joined  in  the  hissing!  Lamb's  fears  were 
realized,  he  heard  "the  tolling  of  the  bell"! 

The  next  day  Lamb  wrote  to  Wordsworth  the  following: 

"Mr . H came  out  last  night  and  failed.  I had  my  fears;  the  subject 
was  not  substantial  enough.  John  Bull  must  have  solider  fare  than 
a letter.  We  are  pretty  stout  about  it;  have  had  plenty  of  con- 
doling friends,  but  after  all  we  had  rather  it  should  have  suc- 
ceeded. You  will  see  the  prologue  in  most  of  the  morning  papers. 

It  was  received  with  such  shouts,  as  I never  witnessed  to  a 
prologue.  It  was  attempted  to  be  encored.  How  hard!  a thing  I did 
merely  as  a task,  because  it  was  wanted,  and  set  no  great  store  by; 
and  Mr.  H.  J !.  The  number  of  friends  we  had  in  the  house  . . . was 
astonishing,  but  they  yielded  at  length  to  a few  hisses!  A hundred 
hisses!  (Damn  the  word,  I write  it,  like  kisses  — how  different)  a 
hundred  hisses  outweigh  a thousand  claps.  The  former  came  more 

2 

directly  from  the  heart.  Well,  ' tis  withdrawn  and  there  is  an  end." 


^Diary . Vol.  1,  p.230. 

2Ainger,  Letters  of  Charles  Lamb. 


Vol.  1,  p.144. 


■ 


• ' ’ 


. 


58 


About  a year  later  he  wrote  to  Manning,  who  was  in  China. 
Time  having  removed  some  of  the  sting  of  failure,  Lamb  used  his 
imagination  and  wrote  somewhat  playfully  as  follows:  "So  I go 

creeping  on  since  I was  lamed  with  the  cursed  fall  from  the  top  of 
Drury  Lane  into  the  pit,  something  more  than  a year  ago.  However, 

I have  been  free  of  the  house  ever  since,  and  the  house  was  pretty 
free  with  me  on  that  occasion.  Damn  'em  how  they  hissed!  It  was 
not  a hiss  either,  but  a sort  of  a frantic  yell,  like  a congrega- 
tion of  mad  geese,  with  roaring  sometimes  like  bears,  mows  and  mops 
like  apes,  sometimes  snakes  that  hissed  me  into  madness."1 

Elliston  wanted  to  put  on  the  play  a second  night,  but 
Lamb  refused  as  he  thought  the  failure  was  due  to  the  slight  sub- 
ject, and,  if  so,  the  second  night  would  be  as  disastrous.  Hazlitt 
in  Table  Talk  says,  "How  often  did  I conjure  up  in  my  recollections 
the  full  diapason  of  applause  at  the  end  of  the  prologue,  and  hear 

my  ingenuous  friend  in  the  first  row  of  the  pit  roar  with  laughter 

2 

at  his  own  wit."  The  following  criticism  on  Mr.  H was  printed  in 
The  Monthly  Literary  Recreation  of  December,  1806:  "This  piece  met 

with  the  fate  which  it  most  justly  merited.  A prologue  full  of 
real  humor  and  wit,  excellently  well  delivered  by  Mr.  Elliston,  made 
us  hope  better  things,  and  we  confess  that  for  the  first  two  or 
three  scenes  our  curiosity  was  excited;  and  the  first  act,  owing  to 
the  exertions  of  Mr.  Elliston  and  Miss  Mellon  went  off  tolerably 
smooth,  until  the  last  scene.  In  the  second  act  Mr.  H,  the  hero 
of  the  piece  who  had  before  concealed  his  name  on  account  of  its 


jAinger,  Letters  of  Charles  Lamb.  Vol.  1,  p.151. 
2P.  232! 


. 


•/  • 

59 


disgusting  vulgarity,  blunders  it  out  himself  and  the  appellation 
of  Hogsflesh  is  made  known  and  immediately  a string  of  the  most 
stale  puns  and  proverbs  are  let  loose  upon  it.  Here  all  interest 
vanished,  the  audience  was  disgusted,  and  the  farce  went  on  to  its 
conclusion  almost  unheard.”'1 

Although  the  play  failed  the  first  night,  yet  it  was 
produced  a few  times  afterward,  according  to  some  of  Lamb's 
biographers.  There  is  a reference  to  its  being  played  in  New  York 
three  months  later,  and  in  Philadelphia  in  1812  it  had  a ccnsider- 
able  run.  On  April  26,  1822  Charles  Mathews  the  younger  played 
the  part  of  Mr.  H.  at  the  Theater  Royal  English  Opera  House  Strand. 
In  1885  it  was  presented  by  a Society  of  Dramatic  Students  who 
compressed  it  into  a single  act  and  contracted  the  dialogue.3 

There  are  different  conjectures  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
failure.  Hazlitt  thought  if  it  had  followed  a tragedy  instead  of 
an  opera  the  audience  would  have  been  in  a more  receptive  mood. 
Talfourd  says  the  stage  had  begun  to  require  interest  moral  or 
immoral  to  be  interwoven  with  the  web  of  all  its  action,  and  no 
longer  rejoiced  in  the  riot  of  animal  spirits  and  careless  gaity; 
it  no  longer  permitted  wit  to  take  the  sting  from  evil  as  well  as 
the  load  from  care;  but  infected  even  its  prince  of  rakes,  Charles 
Surface,  with  a cant  of  sentiment."^  Brander  Matthews  thinks  the 
fatal  fault  was  keeping  the  secret  from  the  spectators.  He  says, 

^Dobell,  Side  Lights  on  Charles  Lamb.  p.  339. 

^Ainger,  Work s of  Charles  Lamb.  Vol.  2,  p.389. 

''Dircks,  Flays  and  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb.  p.XV. 

^Craddock,  Charles  Lamb,  p.60. 


' 


■ 


60 


"To  keep  a secret  is  a misconception  of  true  theatrical  effect,  an 
improper  method  of  sustaining  dramatic  suspense.  An  audience  is 
interested  not  in  what  the  end  may  be,  but  in  the  means  whereby 
that  end  is  to  be  reached.  ...  If  the  audience  that  night  had 
been  slyly  let  into  the  secret  in  an  early  scene,  they  would  have 
had  double  enjoyment  in  watching  the  futile  endeavors  of  the 
dramatis  personae  to  divine  it,  and  they  would  not  have  been  dis- 
appointed when  Mr.  Hogsflesh  let  slip  his  full  patronymic.  Kept  in 
ignorance,  the  spectators  joined  the  actors  in  speculation,  and 
when  the  word  was  revealed  they  were  not  amused  by  the  disgust  of 
the  actors,  so  annoyed  were  they,  that  they  had  been  puzzled  by  a 
vulgar  name . " ^ 

The  failure  may  have  been  due  partly  to  the  play  and 
partly  to  the  audience.  An  article  by  J.  E.  Babson  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly.  May  1863,  entitled  "Charles  Lamb's  Uncollected  Writings," 
gives  some  account  of  a club  of  "damned  authors."  He  states  that 
no  fewer  than  two  tragedies,  four  comedies,  one  opera,  and  three 

farces  suffered  at  Drury  Lane  Theater  during  the  season  of  1806  and 

% 

1807.  The  audience  began  to  hiss  early  in  the  season  and  "retained 
through  the  remainder  of  the  season  a relish  of  blood."  Lamb  says 
"Our  nonsense  did  not  suit  their  nonsense." 

The  farce  has  the  necessary  requisites,  probable  people 
in  possible  circumstances  with  some  exaggeration  of  their  foibles 
and  sentiments.  It  is  "whimsical"  as  Lamb  intended  it  should  be. 
What  other  causes  can  be  found  for  its  failure  than  the  lateness 
of  the  hour,  the  high  expectations  of  the  audience,  and  the  habit 

•^Matthews,  Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb . p.27. 


■ 


* 


. 


61 


which  the  audience  may  have  acquired,  of  hissing  what  did  not  suit 
their  fancy? 

The  construction  of  the  plot  is  too  weak  even  for  a 
whimsical  farce.  The  centra.l  idea  of  the  piece  — for  one  can 
hardly  say  action  as  it  is  so  slight  — is  the  secret  to  be  revealed 
of  who  Mr.  H.  really  is.  The  audience  was  expecting  a good  laugh 
at  the  wit  of  Charles  Lamb,  and  when  the  name  was  revealed  and  it 
proved  to  be  a somewhat  vulgar  but  common  name,  the  disappointment 
became  disgust,  and  the  audience  felt  that  they  themselves  had  been 
tricked.  They  forgot  perhaps  for  the  moment  that  Lamb  their 
favorite  was  responsible  for  this  foolishness  and  hissed.  Had 
Hogsflesh  been  the  name  of  some  popular  character  of  the  city,  it 
might  have  made  what  is  termed  a local  hit,  but  even  then  it  is  too 
flimsy  for  the  central  idea  of  a farce.  The  action  being  so  slight, 
the  farce  consists  mostly  of  dialogue,  some  of  which  is  vulgar  and 
common-place.  The  interest  excited  at  first  died  out,  as  there  was 
too  much  playing  with  Lamb's  favorite  toy,  the  pun.  The  audience 
wanted  a new  idea.  But  had  the  play  been  condensed  to  a single  act 
by  eliminating  most  of  the  second  act  which  is  mere  word  play,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  it  would  have  met  with  a reasonable  degree  of 
success. 

Another  defect  of  the  farce  is  its  lack  of  characteriza- 
tion. An  audience  likes  to  discover  the  foibles  of  a farcical 
character  by  his  action  and  conversation,  rather  than  by  hearing 
a discussion  of  him  by  other  players  or  by  his  own  soliloquies. 

The  characters  are  not  discriminated.  All  of  them  possess  one 
human  foible,  an  abundance  of  curiosity  — an  excellent  one  to 
satirize,  as  it  is  universal.  The  hero  is  best  shown.  He  is  a 


J ' 

■ 


, . 3 

V I 


' 


' 


62 


gentleman  with  some  fortune,  possesses  a good  figure,  is  anxious 
to  find  a wife,  takes  much  pride  in  his  conversation  which  in  fact 
is  very  common-place.  He  has  a bad  memory  which  upset  his  little 
game  for  winning  a wife. 

Lamb  shows  lack  of  skill  in  handling  the  catastrophe. 
When,  through  forgetfulness,  Mr.  H.  betrays  his  own  secret,  the 
playwright  prolongs  the  dramatic  moment  by  having  him  repeat  the 
thought  the  second  time.  The  catastrophe  which  follows  is  mere 
dialogue  so  drawn  out  as  to  cause  the  play  to  lose  its  sparkle  and 
life. 

In  his  exaggeration  of  ridiculous  names  Lamb  has  allowed 
his  imagination  and  wit  to  carry  him  too  far.  He  enumerates  names 
of  persons  that  were  names  of  fishes,  birds,  beasts,  coins, 
professions,  long  names  and  short  names.  He  displays  his  wit  in 
numerous  puns,  and  introduces  numerous  terms  suggesting  hog,  in 
order  to  make  his  hero  flinch.  But  it  is  overdone  and  wearies  the 
audience.lt  seems  as  if  Lamb  was  in  the  mood  for  word  play,  and, 
while  in  imagination  the  speeches  were  only  a moment  in  length,  he 
had  not  counted  the  minutes  required  to  present  the  thoughts  on 
the  stage.  The  amusement  of  the  author  in  creating  the  jokes 
exceeded  the  enjoyment  of  the  audience  in  hearing  them.  Here  his 
emotion  overcame  his  judgment.  He  either  lacked  a psychological 
knowledge  of  the  theatrical  audience,  or  he  was  not  guided  by  it, 
at  least. 

But  with  all  these  faults  the  play  has  interest.  There 
is  sparkle  and  wit  in  the  dialogue.  The  numerous  demands  for  the 
hero’s  name  and  the  curiosity  aroused  is  entertaining.  Lamb  has 
shown  ingenuity  in  choosing  appropriate  names  as  Mrs.  Pointer,  Mrs. 


. 


. 


. 


63 


Setter,  and  Mrs.  Guesswell  for  the  committee  to  discover  the  real 
identity  of  Mr.  H.  Some  of  his  puns  are  clever  hut  others  resemble 
those  of  our  present  day  vaudeville. 

The  most  entertaining  feature  is  the  exaggeration  of 
curiosity.  Lamb  has  expressed  the  superlative  degree  of  this  human 
foible  in  Mr.  Pry,  the  landlord,  who  is  complaining  of  his  house 
being  upside  down  because  of  the  guessing  and  speculating  of  the 
servants  as  to  the  identity  of  Mr.  H.  While  complaining  the  land- 
lord takes  up  a box  belonging  to  the  hero  and  displays  his  own 
curiosity.  This  is  the  only  dramatic  incident  of  the  play.  Mr.  Pry 
says,  "I  hate  such  inquisite  — I wonder  what  is  in  it?  — it 
feels  heavy,  ’Leases,  title  deeds,  wills.’  Here,  now,  a man  might 
satisfy  his  curiosity  at  once  . . . But  I wouldn’t  — it  is  a pretty 
box  too.  — but  I'd  cut  my  fingers  off  before  I’d  do  such  a dirty  — 
what  have  I to  do  — curse  the  keys,  how  they  rattle!  (takes  out  a 
bunch  and  plays  with  them)  I wonder  if  any  of  these  would  fit?  One 
might  just  try  them;  but  I wouldn't  lift  up  the  lid.  0 Lord! 
little  rusty  fits  it!  but  what  is  that  to  me?  I wouldn't  go  to  — 
no,  no  — but"  (While  he  is  turning  up  the  lid  of  the  box  Mr.  H. 
enters  behind  him  unperceived.)  As  the  usual  custom  in  the  plays 
of  Lamb's  time  the  offense  is  forgiven.  The  landlord  excuses  him- 
self by  declaring  he  has  had  a natural  curiosity  from  childhood. 

He  says,  "I  could  never  see  a cold  pie  with  legs  dangling  out  at 
the  top  but  my  fingers  were  for  lifting  up  the  crust  — just  to  try 
if  it  were  pigeon  or  partridge,  — for  no  other  reason  in  the  world. 

In  this  farce  as  in  the  tragedy  Lamb  has  portrayed  in  the 
hero  some  of  his  own  characteristics:  Mr.  H is  interested  in 
music;  he  is  familiar  with  quotations  from  authors;  the  discussion 


' 


. 


. 


: 


64 


of  his  blasted  hope  of  marriage  recalls  Lamb's  "Dream  Children"; 
he  loves  to  swear  but  is  not  so  adept  as  Lamb;  and  he  is  as 
forgiving  as  the  author  himself.  The  last  sentence  of  the  farce  is 
a characteristic  "Lambism,"  "Hogsflesh  has  saved  his  Bacon." 

Ainger  has  suggested  that  it  was  this  speech  which  probably  gave 
rise  to  the  play. 

The  pun  was  characteristic  of  Lamb's  humor.  His  beloved 
master  made  use  of  it  in  his  earlier  plays,  but  Shakespeare  outgrew 
it  in  his  mature  literary  life.  Lamb,  however,  remained  the  "boy" 
in  more  ways  than  one;  he  always  loved  the  pun.  The  playfulness 
of  the  author  in  dallying  so  long  with  such  slight  ideas,  and  the 
flowing  conversation  of  the  dialogue  suggests  the  style  of  an 
essayist,  rather  than  the  more  active,  pointed,  and  abbreviated 
conversation  of  a dramatist. 


The  third  play  was  a tragi-comedy  entitled  The  Wife ' s 
Trial  or  The  Intruding  Widow,  founded  on  Crabbe's  tale  of  The 
Confidant . This  play  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1837,  and 
printed  December  1828,  in  Blackwood' s Magazine . 

The  plot  is  as  follows:  The  fifth  wedding  anniversary 

of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Selby  finds  the  home  somewhat  disturbed  by  an 
intruding  widow,  Mrs.  Frampton,  a former  school-mate,  who  came  to 
visit  Mrs.  Selby  for  a few  days  but  has  remained  weeks,  and  shows 
no  intention  of  leaving.  Mr.  Selby  has  discovered  that  she  has 
some  mysterious  power  over  his  wife  which  has  reduced  her  from  the 
attitude  of  a hostess  to  that  of  a cringing  servant.  He  rebels 


•• 


65 


against  this  situation  and  insists  upon  his  wife's  requesting  the 
widow  to  leave.  Fearfully  she  complies  with  her  husband's  request 
but  the  widow  becomes  indignant  and  refuses.  Mr.  Selby  overhears 
the  widow  say,  "Your  husband  shall  know  all  this!”  He  at  once  sus- 
pects his  wife's  fidelity.  When  he  informs  his  si3ter  Lucy  of  the 
situation,  she  suggests  that  he  cajole  the  widow  into  telling  the 
secret  by  pretensions  of  love.  Mrs.  Frampton  falls  into  the  snare 
without  much  hesitation.  According  to  her  story  Mrs.  Selby  has 
been  secretly  married  as  a schoolgirl,  though  her  husband  left  her 
at  the  church  door  and  had  died  abroad.  The  widow  withholds  how- 
ever the  knowledge  of  his  death.  When  Mr.  Selby  relates  the  secret 
to  Lucy,  she  recalls  a letter  received  by  Katherine  his  wife, 
shortly  after  the  marriage,  and  Mr.  Selby  remembers  that  it  con- 
veyed the  news  of  the  death  of  some  friend,  as  yet  unconfirmed.  They 
decide  that  the  young  husband  and  dead  friend  are  the  same.  Mr. 
Selby  leads  the  widow  on  to  disclose  the  name,  which  proves  their 
conjecture  is  right.  The  husband  and  wife  are  reconciled  and  the 
widow  is  forgiven. 

This  is  the  slightest  of  Lamb's  plays  as  it  is  entirely 
wanting  in  dramatic  action.  Lamb  was  aware  of  this  defect  as  he 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Shelley,  "I  am  writing  a farce  in  two  acts;  the 
incidents  are  tragi-coraic.  I can  do  the  dialogue;  but  the  damned 
plot,  I believe  I must  admit  altogether.  The  scenes  come  after  one 
another  like  geese,  not  marshalling  like  cranes  on  a Hyde  Park 
Review.  The  story  is  as  simple  as  G(eorge)  D(yer),  and  the 
language  plain  as  his  spouse.  The  characters  are  three  women  to 
one  man;  which  is  one  more  than  laid  hold  on  him  in  Evangely  . . . 

I want  some  Howard  Paine  to  sketch  a skeleton  of  artfully  succeeding 


68 


scenes  through  a whole  play  as  the  courses  are  arranged  in  a cook 
book:  I to  find  wit,  passion,  sentiment,  character  and  the  like 
trifles;  to  lay  in  the  dead  colors  — I'd  Titianesque  'em  up;  to 
mark  the  channel  in  a cheek,  and  where  tears  should  course  I'd 
draw  the  waters  down;  to  say  where  a joke  should  come  in  or  a pun 
be  left  out;  to  bring  my  personae  on  and  off  like  Bean  Nash;  and 
I'd  Frankenstein  them  there;  to  bring  three  on  the  stage  at  once; 
they  are  so  shy  with  me,  that  I can  get  no  more  than  two;  and  there 
they  stand  till  it  is  the  time  without  being  the  season,  to  with- 
draw them."1 

Lamb  did  leave  the  plot  out  as  far  as  motive  and  dramatic 
action  is  concerned.  In  the  beginning  of  the  play  the  motive  of 
jealousy  is  suggested.  Had  Mr,  Selby  carried  on  a flirtation  with 
the  widow  in  order  to  arouse  his  wife's  jealousy  and  hasten  the 
departure  of  the  intruder  the  play  would  have  had  dramatic  interest. 
As  in  Mr.  H . the  secret  is  too  slight  for  dramatic  value.  Only  a 
sentimental  creature  would  endure  the  tyrannical  widow  for  fear  of 
its  being  exposed.  After  the  secret  is  disclosed,  Mr.  Selby  tries 
to  arouse  his  wife's  jealousy,  when  it  has  no  purpose  in  securing 
dramatic  action. 

The  characters  are  merely  interlocutors  informing  the 
audience  what  has  happened  behind  the  scenes.  Mr.  Selby  refers  to 
the  widow's  power  over  his  wife  thus, 

"Katherine's  meek 
And  gentle  spirit  cowers  beneath  her  eye 
As  spell  bound  by  some  witch." 


hi 


acdonald,  Works  of  Charles  Lamb . Vol.  2,  p.175. 


5 

' 


Such  a scene  would  be  interesting  and  arouse  some  sympathy  for 
Katherine.  The  audience  would  be  entertained  by  the  actions  of 
the  widow  as  Mr.  Selby  describes  them. 

"Sometimes  I have  thought 
A secret  glance  would  tell  me  she  could  love 
If  I but  gave  encouragement." 

The  characters  of  the  play  are  weak  and  puling  sort  of 
creatures.  Katherine  is  a meek,  tearful,  sentimental  wife  at  the 
beginning  of  the  play  and  continues  so  to  the  end.  She  lacks  the 
independence  and  will  of  Margaret  in  John  Woodvil , Margaret  com- 
manded our  sympathy  but  Katherine  does  not.  The  character  of  the 
widow  is  better  delineated.  She  i3  a bold,  imperious,  and  assuming; 
somewhat  affected  and  coquettish.  She  is  near  the  verge  of  im- 
morality as  Mr.  Selby  describes  her, 

"She  rests  prepared,  as  mistress  or  as  wife 
To  seize  the  place  of  her  betrayed  friend." 

She  is  stupid  in  telling  her  secret  so  readily,  and  in  believing 
Mr.  Selby's  attitude  had  changed  toward  her  so  quickly.  One  is 
not  convinced  of  her  penitence  although  Mr.  Selby  says  at  the  close 
that  he  reads  "penitence  on  her  dejected  brow."  Mr.  Selby  is  weak 
in  suspecting  hi3  wife's  fidelity  on  such  a slight  foundation.  Lucy 
is  a mere  tool  which  the  playwright  uses  to  explain  situations. 

Although  the  play  is  written  in  blank  verse,  yet  it 
should  have  been  in  prose.  The  thought  and  diction  do  not  possess 
poetic  beauty  or  sublimity.  The  following  is  a very  common 
greeting  with  some  affectation. 


68 


"Be  seated.  For  your  brother's  sake  you  are  welcome. 

I had  thought  this  day  to  have  spent  in  homely  fashion, 
With  the  good  couple  to  whose  hospitality 
I stand  so  far  indebted.  But  your  coming 
Makes  it  a feast." 


Let  us  test  this  verse  by  applying  the  touchstone  of  Shakespeare. 
In  speaking  of  the  unfaithfulness  of  his  wife  Mr.  Selby  says, 


"I  begin 

To  call  in  doubt  the  course  of  her  life  past 
Under  my  eyes.  She  hath  not  been  good 
Not  virtuous,  nor  discreet." 


Othello  says  of  Desdemona, 


"She's  gone.  I am  abus'd;  and  my  relief 
Must  be  to  loathe  her."1 


Lamb  has  put  the  burden  of  the  drama  on  the  dialogue  which  consists 
principally  of  narration  and  description.  He  has  told  a story,  but 
as  a dramatist  he  should  have  motivated  action,  and  portrayed  his 
charactersand  scenes,  through  dramatic  action  and  terse,  pointed 
dialogue . 

The  Wife 1 s Tragedy  is  colored  by  the  sentimentality  of  the 
time.  The  play  lacks  the  poetical  passages  we  found  in  John 
Woodvil.  and  the  wit  in  Mr . H.  The  Lambisms  are  scarcely  seen,  but 
the  love  of  emotion  which  he  tried  but  failed  to  express  — "the 
channels  where  the  tears  should  course"  — is  the  marked  character- 
istic of  Lamb  in  this  play.  It  is  the  most  impersonal  and  also  the 
least  interesting  of  his  plays. 

^Act  2,  sc.  3. 


69 


IV 

The  Pawnbroker 1 s Daughter,  a farce  in  two  acts  written 
in  1829,  was  Lamb's  last  attempt  as  a dramatist.  It  was  never 
presented  on  the  stage.  Lamb  appealed  to  Elliston,  who  was  then 
manager  of  Surrey  Theater,  to  produce  it,  but  he  replied  that  it 
would  not  be  suited  to  the  interest  of  the  theater.  According  to 
some  of  Lamb's  biographers  Lamb  had  expected  it  to  be  performed  at 
the  Haymarket,1  and  had  submitted  it  to  Charles  Matthews  at  the 

p 

Adelphi  Theater.  The  farce  was  printed  in  January  1830,  in 
Blackwood*  s Magazine . but  it  was  never  reprinted  by  Lamb,  and 
Ainger  omitted  it  in  his  edition  of  Lamb's  works. 

The  farce  is  founded  upon  the  essay  "On  the  Inconveniences 
of  Being  Hanged.”  The  plot  is  not  quite  so  slight  as  Mr . H.  for 
this  play  has  two  romances  somewhat  interwoven.  Marian,  the 
daughter  of  Flint  the  pawnbroker,  is  wooed  by  Davenport  of  the 
gentry,  against  the  wishes  of  her  father  who  is  determined  she  shall 
not  marry  to  be  twitted  afterward  of  her  low  estate.  He  plans  for 
her  to  marry  one  of  his  choice.  Through  a trick  of  her  maid, 

Marian  is  rushed  away  by  her  lover  during  the  absence  of  her  father. 
In  her  excitement  she  carries  with  her  a box  of  jewels  placed  in 
her  care.  Davenport  finds  lodging  for  her  in  Cutlet  the  butcher's 
house,  where  she  occupies  an  apartment  with  Miss  Flyn,  whose  lover 
Pendulous  has  just  escaped  death  by  hanging,  news  of  his  innocence 
coming  two  minutes  after  he  was  hung.  Pendulous  is  grieved  over 


^Lucas,  Life  of  Charles  Lamb . Vol.  2,  p.  153. 

^Thomson,  B ib lio graph v of  Char le s and  Mary  Lamb,  p.102. 


. 


. 


70 

the  disgrace  and  feels  that  no  lady  could  accept  him.  Miss  Flyn 
resolves  to  commit  some  deed  which  will  bring  her  to  justice, 
hoping  the  disgrace  will  produce  a bond  of  sympathy  with  her  lover, 
by  reducing  herself  to  the  same  level.  Her  plan  soon  materializes. 
Just  as  she  arrives  at  this  conclusion,  an  officer,  sent  by  the 
pawnbroker  to  arrest  his  daughter  for  stealing  the  jewels,  enters 
and  finds  Miss  Flyn  holding  the  jewel  casket  intrusted  to  her,  by 
Marian  during  her  absence.  When  Miss  Flyn  is  brought  before  the 
court,  Flint  declares  she  is  not  his  daughter.  She  will  make  no 
explanation  but  asks  them  to  send  for  Pendulous.  He  comes  and 
offers  to  answer  for  her  with  his  life  and  fortune.  At  this  point, 
Marian  rushes  in,  falls  at  her  father's  feet  and  begs  his  forgive- 
ness. The  father  relents  and  all  are  happy. 

This  play  failed  as  did  the  others,  because  of  the  lack  of 
dramatic  action.  It  is  an  artificial,  motiveless,  and  conventional 
farce.  It  is  less  extravagant  in  verbal  wit  than  Mr . H.  but  it  is 
also  less  entertaining  in  wit  on  account  of  the  absence  of 
imaginative  qualities.  The  dialogue  moves  more  rapidly,  thanks  to 
the  many  short  speeches.  The  audience  enjoys  the  dialogue  at  times 
because  they  are  informed  of  the  situation,  before  it  is  known  by 
all  the  characters.  Betty  the  maid  knows  nothing  of  Pendulous  being 
hanged,  but  she  says  to  Miss  Flyn,  "He  has  not  had  a fall  or  tumble 
has  he?"  and  "If  his  neck  is  whole  his  heart  is  too." 

Lamb  has  indulged  himself  as  usual  in  word  play.  When 
Cutlet  complains  that  he  cannot  sleep  because  of  his  thinking,  Lucy 
the  maid  replies  "And  what  may  be  the  subject  of  your  Night 
Thoughts?"  thus  playing  upon  the  title  of  Young's  poem.  He  has 


?1 


shown  his  caprice  in  choosing  names  for  the  characters:  Flint  for 

the  pawnbroker,  Cutlet  for  the  butcher,  and  Pendulous  for  the  man 
hanged.  Lamb  has  also  indulged  himself  in  the  use  of  the  paradox. 

He  reverses  the  tendency  of  society:  instead  of  scheming  to  marry 
his  daughter  above  her  rank,  the  pawnbroker  refuses  such  an 
alliance;  instead  of  ignoring  or  ostracizing  a disgraced  person, 

Miss  Flyn  plans  to  commit  a crime  in  order  to  create  a bond  of  love. 
We  are  introduced  to  Cutlet  pouring  over  the  sentimental  verse, 

"The  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to  bleed  today 
Had  he  thy  reason  would  be  sport  and  play? 

Pleased  to  the  last  he  crops  his  flowery  food, 

And  licks  the  hand  just  raised  to  shed  its  blood." 

Then  he  throws  aside  his  book  and  rushes  to  sell  a saddle  of  mutton. 
The  pawnbroker's  business  is  a paradox.  It  is  beneficient  in  loan- 
ing money  to  those  in  dire  circumstances,  it  is  harsh  in  the  tooth- 
and-claw  method  by  which  it  succeeds. 

As  in  John  Woodvil . Lamb  has  portrayed  the  characters  as 
romanticists.  The  pawnbroker  engages  in  a business  in  which 
fortune's  wheel  sometimes  stops  at  his  number,  truly  a romantic 
business.  He  has  a temperamental  disposition.  When  in  a bad  mood, 
Marian  can  sooth  him  with  music.  At  times  he  feels  like  a poet, 
and  expresses  himself  in  an  artificial  manner  as,  "You  shall  ride 
in  a gilded  chariot  upon  the  necks  of  these  poor,  Marian.  Their 
tears  shall  drop  pearls  for  my  girl."  He  is  extreme  in  his  emotions 
toward  his  daughter.  In  the  beginning  of  the  play  he  is 
affectionate,  begging  a kiss;  after  she  elopes  taking  the  jewels, 
he  denounces  her  as  a thief,  and  orders  a warrant  for  her  arrest, 
saying,  "I  am  rock,  absolute  rock."  His  extreme  emotion  causes  his 


[ 


72 


strength  to  fail  and  he  exclaims,  "What  is  it  that  makes  my  legs 
to  fail,  and  my  whole  frame  to  totter  thus?"  After  the  jewels  are 
regained  the  dramatically  dashes  them  to  the  floor  exclaiming, 

"Was  it  in  the  power  of  these  pale  splendors  to  dazzle  the  sight 
of  honesty,  to  put  out  the  regardful  eye  of  pity  and  daughter  love?" 

Cutlet  is  even  more  romantic.  He  feels  that  his 
"trembling  sensibility''  is  not  adapted  to  his  business,  and  wishes 
he  might  have  sold  gloves  and  lace.  He  enjoys  emotions.  He  says, 

"I  would  not  exchange  this  luxury  of  unavailing  pity  for  the  world." 
He  inquires  of  Pendulous  if  he  kept  a journal  of  his  emotions  when 
he  was  hanged.  He  thinks  that  his  "nerves"  are  due  to  his  highly 
developed  mind.  He  remarks,  "I  believe  I must  not  think  so  deeply, 
common  people  that  don't  reason  kno-w  nothing  of  these  aberrations." 
He  recites, 

"Great  wits  go  mad,  and  small  ones  only  dull; 

Distracting  cares  vex  not  the  empty  skull: 

They  seize  on  heads  that  think, and  hearts  that  feel 
As  flies  attack  the  — better  sort  of  veal." 

He  is  extremely  sentimental  in  his  feelings  toward  animals  as  he 
continues  his  poetry: 

"Yet  still  I keep  my  feeling  ways, 

And  leave  the  town  on  slaughtering  days. 

At  Kentish  Town  or  High  Gate  Hill, 

I sit,  retired  beside  some  rill; 

And  tears  bedew  my  glistening  eyes 
To  think  my  playful  lambs  must  die." 

As  the  usual  thing  in  Lamb's  writing  he  has  given  us 
flash  lights  of  himself  now  and  then.  His  literary  bent  is  seen 
in  his  reference  to  Kight  Thoughts,  to  Pope's  verse,  and  to 
Buckingham's  speech.  His  capricious  style  is  noted  in  the  many 


- 


! 


73 


paradoxes  he  has  conceived.  Cutlett  possesses  several  of  Lamb's 
well-known  characteristics;  the  enjoyment  of  emotion,  his 
imagination,  his  "nerves"  and  "trembling  sensibility";  his  dislike 
for  his  business;  his  love  of  poetry;  and  his  humorous  verse. 

Y/e  have  discussed  at  some  length  each  of  Lamb's  plays. 

We  have  noted  that  the  characters  as  well  as  their  master  have  been 
trained  in  the  romantic  school  of  expression.  The  features  he 
admired  in  the  Grand  Master  Shakespeare  he  has  taught  them  to 
imitate.  Some  of  his  characters  are  heard  discoursing  on  the 
wonders  of  imagination;  some  have  learned  to  juggle  and  play  with 
words;  some  are  discussing  their  strange  emotions  with  great  joy 
and  satisfaction;  and  some  are  sentimental.  All  have  been  assigned 
some  part  in  a romantic  incident  or  adventure,  yet  they  have  never 
learned  the  art  of  acting.  They  prefer  to  discuss  their  emotions 
and  relate  their  experiences  rather  than  display  them  before  an 
audience.  The  master  himself  is  displeased  with  them  and  says  they 
come  on  the  stage  "after  one  another  like  geese."  Why  have  they 
failed? 

Why  did  Lamb  fail?  During  a period  of  thirty  years  he 
produced  only  four  plays,  one  of  which  was  accepted  for  acting  and 
it  was  "damned"  at  its  first  appearance.  Yet  during  these  thirty 
years  Lamb  was  a regular  attendant  at  the  theater,  and  was  reading 
the  dramas  of  the  old  masters.  But  while  he  gave  himself  to  the 
enjoyment  of  emotions  and  to  the  beauty  of  the  dialogue,  he  did  not 
seem  to  give  attention  to  their  foundation  structure.  The  cause  of 
his  failure  is  adequately  expressed  by  Arnold.  He  says,  "Shakespeare 


' 


. 


74 


had  the  gift  of  ingenious  expression  eminent  and  unrivalled,  so 
eminent  as  irresistibly  to  strike  the  attention  in  him,  and  even 
to  throw  into  comparative  shade  his  other  excellencies  as  a poet 
(which  were  his  fundamental  excellencies  as  a poet.)  . . . these 
attractive  accessories  of  a poetical  work  being  more  easily  seized 
than  the  spirit  of  the  whole  ...  A young  writer  having  recourse 
to  Shakespeare  as  his  model  runs  risk  of  being  vanquished  and 
absorbed  by  them,  . . . and  in  consequence  reproducing  these  and 
these  alone. "I 

But  the  constructive  genius  of  a dramatist  was  not  among 
the  talents  bestowed  upon  Lamb.  He  lacked  the  faculty  of  mind 
which  sees  the  parts  in  their  relation  to  the  whole.  He  saw  only 
the  parts.  The  genius  who  could  make  his  reputation  in  literature, 
in  an  essay  on  the  "Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig"  did  not  have  the 
faculty  for  portraying  the  human  soul  in  trying  situations,  in  its 
conflict  of  passion  and  duty. 

But  there  is  another  cause  for  Lamb's  failure.  In  the 
first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  there  was  neither  a national 
glow  of  life  and  thought  such  as  existed  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare, 
nor  was  there  the  learning  and  criticism  that  was  found  at  this  time 
in  Germany.  Lamb  had  neither  the  materials  nor  the  atmosphere  con- 
ducive to  the  creation  of  dramatic  poetry,  even  though  he  had 
possessed  the  natural  ability.  The  dramatists  of  Lamb's  period, 
therefore,  played  an  insignificant  part  in  English  literature. 


■^Arnold,  Poems . "Preface"  p.  x. 


vx 

' 


. 


CONCLUSION 


It  has  been  the  aim  of  this  thesis  to  show  Lamb  as  a 
representative  of  the  Romantic  school,  by  discussing  his  relation  to 
the  stage.  In  the  three  chapters  we  have  discussed  his  life,  his 
dramatic  criticism,  and  his  plays.  We  have  discovered  the  native 
elements  of  the  man;  imagination,  emotion,  sympathy,  a subjective 
mind,  and  an  antiquarian  spirit,  which  are  characteristics  of  his 
group. 

These  native  qualities  together  with  his  acquirements 
prepared  him  for  the  work  of  a critic,  a critic  of  the  romantic 
method,  one  who  depended  upon  his  own  sensibility,  and  conveyed 
the  charm  he  felt  under  the  spell  of  the  Old  Actors  or  Elizabethan 
Dramatists.  He  was  an  impressionistic  critic. 

His  criticisms  brought  him  in  touch  with  the  actors  and 
dramatists  of  hi3  day.  They  sought  his  criticism.  His  comments  on 
the  actors  in  which  he  pointed  to  the  superior  qualities  of  imagina- 
tion, emotion,  and  intelligence;  and  his  principle  of  illusion  by 
which  he  judged  acting,  are  valuable  notes  to  those  seeking  success 
in  the  theatrical  world.  But  in  searching  through  the  old  manu- 
scripts of  the  Elizabethan  dramatists  and  pointing  out  the  superior 
qualities  of  Shakespeare's  plays  in  comparison  with  those  of  the 
other  dramatists,  yet  giving  credit  to  their  excellencies  as  well, 
his  work  has  been  of  most  value  to  the  stage. 

Where  Lamb  could  use  his  native  qualities  he  succeeded, 
but  where  he  sought  to  imitate  others  he  failed.  Where  emotion, 


76 


imagination,  and  a subjective  mind  were  essential  qualities  for  the 
work  he  succeeded;  but  where  order  of  mind,  constructive  power, 
and  impersonal  expression  were  required  he  failed.  Therefore  as 
a dramatist  he  failed,  but  as  a critic  he  possessed  the  necessary 
qualities  to  appreciate  a "great  work"  and  convey  its  charm  to 
others.  It  was  as  an  impressionistic  critic  that  Lamb  played  the 
most  important  part  in  his  relation  to  the  stage. 


4 


. 


I 


' 


. 


i 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


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L ondon , 1906. 

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Allibone,  S.  A.,  Critical  Dictionary  of  English  Literature  and 

British  and  American  Authors,  vol.  1.  Philadelphia,  1908. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  Poems , Oxford  ed.  London,  1920. 

Babson,  J.  E.,  ’’Charles  Lamb's  Uncollected  Writings,”  Atlantic 
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Bernbaum,  Ernest,  Drama  of  Sensibility.  Ginn  and  Co.  Boston,  1915. 

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Lucas,  E.  V. , Life  of  Charles  Lamb.  2 vols.  London,  1905. 

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Brainard  Publishing  Company.  8 vols.,  Boston,  191-? 

Dramatic  Essays  of  Charles  Lamb 

rtMy  First  Play?  (London  Magazine . 1821.) 

"The  Old  Actors?  (London  Magazine . 1822.) 

"On  the  Acting  of  Munden?  (London  Magazine , 1822.) 

"Munden1 s Farewell. " (London  Magazine.  1824; 

"The  Death  of  Munden."  (Athenaeum.  1832.) 

"Autobiography  of  Mr.  Munden. " (London  Magazine . 1825.) 
"Biographical  Memoir  of  Mr.  Liston. (London  Magazine,  1825.] 
"To  the  Shade  of  Elliston.”  (The  Englishman  * s Magazine . 1851) 
"Ellistoniania. " (Ibid.) 

"The  Religion  of  Actors."  (The  New  Monthly  Magazine.  1826.) 
"On  the  Custom  of  Hissing  at  Theaters . " (The  Reflector. 1811) 
"John  Hemble  and  Godwin's  Tragedy  of  Antonio.  ""(London  MagazLn 
"Stage  Illusions."  (London  Magazine.  1825.) 

"On  the  Artificial  Comedy  of  the  Last  Century." 

(London  Magazine.  1822.) 

"On  the  Tragedies  of  Shakespeare."  (The  Reflector.  1811.) 


"7-." 


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"Charaters  of  Dramatic  Writers  Contemporary  with  Shakes- 
speare."  (Collected  Works.  1818.) 

"Barbara  S."  (London  Magazine . 1825. 5 
"Criticisms."  (The  Examiner,  1819.) 

Olympic  Theater 

Mill  Kelly  at  Bath 

The  Jovial  Crew 

The  Hypocrite 

New  Pieces  at  the  Lyceum 

"On  a Passage  in  the  Tempest."  (London  Magazine,  1823.) 

Some  Important  Letters  of  Lamb  containing  Dramatic  Criticism. 

To  Coleridge.  June  14,  1796. 

To  William  Dogwin.  December  14,  1800. 

To  Robert  Lloyd.  July  26,  1801. 

To  William  Godwin.  September  9,  1801. 

To  William  Godwin.  September  17,  1801. 

To  William  Wordsworth.  April  9,  1816. 


